


Une Nouvelle Vie A Paris

by oddlyqueer



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: FTM Enjolras, FTM!Enjolras, Good Boy Combeferre, M/M, Trans Enjolras, Trans Male Character, alternate history kind of, and drinking, and period accurate transphobia, i really don't know what time it's set in, probably some heavy angsty scenes, set in like steampunk era i guess?, there's still like corsets and stuff but being lgbt+ is not unusual, trans!Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 08:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 35,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16740154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddlyqueer/pseuds/oddlyqueer
Summary: When Apollo Enjolras leaves home with his "brother" Combeferre, he is ecstatic to go to Paris. After all, his overbearing parents don't live in Paris. No one knows him in Paris. Most importantly, in Paris he won't have to deal with his mother calling him "Artemis" and "ma fille" anymore. However, there are bigger issues to deal with in Paris- such as the boy in his Philosophy class that is two thirds of tall, dark, and handsome.





	1. Paris At Last

“Goodbye, Artemis!” His parents are waving from the porch. I continue staring away at the carriage ahead of me. God, when will they shut up? I can’t do this anymore, can’t keep up the charade, and if I have to say one more high-pitched goodbye to Combeferre’s parents, I might burst.

He helps me into the carriage and I sigh, leaning back in the seat and wincing at my corset’s snapping noise. Combeferre looks at me sympathetically. “At least you can give these to Jehan and they can wear them.”

“I can’t bear to hear people use that name for me anymore.”

“And you won’t have to. You’ll be Monsieur Enjolras and no one will think any different. Especially not at college.” He pulls the silver band off his finger and slips it into his pocket.

“Oh, and you can take your stupid ring. Are you going to sell it?”

“Maybe. Maybe I’ll propose to Courfeyrac. Maybe I’ll tie it to a kite and fly it into a tree. And then set the tree on fire.”

I giggle, then cringe at how high my voice got. Combeferre looks at me, and I can tell he noticed my lapse. He hasn’t heard me use my real voice yet, mainly because it’s impossible to do while wearing a corset.

“Your voice sounds lovely, Enjolras.”

“Shut up.” I turn away, gazing out the window. Paris can’t come soon enough.

The rest of the carriage ride is uneventful. When Combeferre introduces me as Madame Esperre, I wince, but hide it until we get to the room. He helps me undress, and I feel a sense of relief when I see my real body.

Our new apartment on campus is pretty. It overlooks the Seine and there’s three rooms, big ones. We sit together, his hand on my back, while I cut a few long strips of cloth from my old petticoats. My mother would throw a fit if she saw. I grin, imagining her horrified face.

Combeferre leaves, picking up a pouch of francs from the table and locking the door behind him. I continue chopping up the skirts, smiling all the while. I look over at the rest of my old clothing. Hm. That old red dress would make a lovely vest.

When he returns, I’m halfway through the lining of the vest. He sighs and starts unpacking his clothes, including a few smaller sets from when he was younger. It takes him a while, and I’m nearly done with the vest by the time he returns from his room. He watches me finish, and I lead him into my room, handing him the strips of cloth.

“What do you want me to do with these?”

I unbutton my blouse and give him a knowing look.

“Enjolras. No.”

“What else am I meant to do?”

“I don’t know- just anything else but this! It could be dangerous.”

“Do you really think I care if it’s bloody dangerous?! I just want-” I look down, ashamed of my outburst. My blouse hangs open around my torso.

Combeferre sighs and steps closer to me. “If it’s truly what you want.”

I spend the next few minutes trying to find a good way to do this. We settle on how I used to do corsets, having a solid hold on the headboard with the other person behind me fastening in the back.

“Tighter.”

“But-”

“Tighter, Combeferre.”

“It could hurt you,” he protests. I glare over my shoulder at him, not breaking my hold on the headboard’s posts. He pulls tighter, and I gasp, trying to find breath. He immediately loosens it, and I inhale deeply, biting my lip.

“That’s it, we’re stopping-”

“No!” He looks shocked at the ferocity of my protest. “I- we cannot. Keep going.”

“I don’t want you breaking your ribs or backbone because of me,” he says, pulling on the cloth strips and pinning them with fasteners. I glare back at him again.

“You said tighter, I made them tighter.”

“I meant- never mind.” I stand up, smoothing down the layers. He looks at me disapprovingly. I sigh and look at him pleadingly.

“No tighter than this.”

“Fine. How do I look?”

“Well, presumably you will look better with trousers on,” Combeferre says, one side of his mouth quirking up into a smile. “But otherwise, very masculine. Of course, there’s the hair, but-”

“Cut it off.”

“Yes, sir,” he says, slightly startled. I try not to smile at being called ‘sir’, and instead sit down on a chair. He returns with a pair of scissors and a red ribbon.

“Can you- just to my shoulders, please?”

“Of course.”

I sit stiffly, the bandagelike wrappings worse than a corset in some rights. My lip trembles when I move, pain shooting up my spine.

“Finished.” He picks up a mirror and hands it to me.

“Combeferre, it is perfect.” I stand and put my arms around him in a clumsy gesture of affection. “I love it.”

“I just want you to be happy, my brother.”

He kisses my forehead and ruffles my new, short ponytail. My hands are shaking, and I look back in the full-length mirror behind me. My hands fly to my mouth.

I look like a man. My bound chest and shorter hair just look so masculine, and the ponytail- a much more masculine hairstyle- highlights the more male-looking aspects of my face. I step out of my dress and look at myself in just bloomers and the chest binding. It makes me almost feel like a real man.

“I bought you some new clothing, by the by,” Combeferre says. “I’ll fetch it now.”

He walks back in with a shirt, socks, pants, garters, and shoes. I look at them, confused but unwilling to let him know that I have absolutely no idea how to put any of this on.

“Go on. You aren’t ashamed of changing in front of me, are you? Because you’ve done it before, I practically dress you every day.”

“No, it’s not-”

“Oh. You have never learned how to put these specific clothing- of course you haven’t. I am sorry, Enjolras. I’ll help you.”

“You do not need to help me-”

“You will not be able to do this yourself, will you?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then I will dress you. You will learn quickly, it truly is not difficult.”

“That is a complete lie. I’m hopeless at fashion and clothing.”

“You are hopeless at _womens’_ clothing, Enjolras. Trust me, we have all noticed,” he says to the confusion on my face. “You dress in womens’ clothes like men’s clothing. It feels like you should be in trousers from the way you wear skirts.”

“I do not dress badly in womens’ clothing-”

Combeferre fixes me with a stare.

“You most certainly do. I'll dress you for now, and perhaps you will learn to wear mens’ clothing better than womens’. Hopefully.”

I sigh and let him help me into the trousers and shirt. He does my garters while I button my shirt, and on a whim I pull on the recently finished vest. It fits me well, and makes my chest look flatter than it is. I look in the mirror one last time and am very pleased. I look a bit like my father, I fancy, and I try to make my best “displeased George Enjolras” face. It fails miserably, and I just end up looking haughty. Combeferre smiles at me, and we walk down from our apartment to wander the campus for a while. Being outside like this is very freeing, but I feel slightly out of place. Every other man I pass has a beard or sideburns, and I feel like a young boy in comparison. Even Combeferre has a more masculine appearance than I do. I look enviously at his shaved face, seeing the faint appearance of stubble on his jawline.

“Ferre! Hey, Ferre!”

I turn around to see a pretty girl and a man being dragged along behind her. The pretty girl has long, curly blonde hair and pale blue eyes, and I bristle at how similar we look. She stops in front of us, smiling up at Combeferre.

“Hello, Cosette,” he says, smiling back at her. She practically starts glowing when he says her name.

“You remembered me! Lovely!”

“How could I forget the girl that so politely told me that- what was it?”

“That this color would make you look like an overripe lemon,” she giggles, glancing over at me. “I do believe that this must be your friend, then! The one you were shopping for?"

“Yes,” I say, mustering up the voice I had practiced in private for months. Combeferre looks slightly shocked. “I am Enjolras. A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

“You did not tell me he had such charming manners,” she says, a slight blush tinting her pale cheeks. “Lovely to meet you too, sir.”

I try to hide the glee I feel at being called a man by strangers. She called me ‘sir’! Only Combeferre had ever done that before. I could feel a smile spreading across my face, and quickly bit my lip, hoping that it was not showing.

“I am her fiance, Marius.”

“A pleasure, I'm sure.” He reaches out towards me. Oh god. He wants to shake my hand. I have never shaken anyone's hand before, how am I meant to-

I just grab his hand and hope that I'm doing this right. He doesn’t seem upset or confused, so I assume I did it right.

Combeferre puts a hand protectively on my back. I feel my shoulders rising, and I try to calm myself. It’s okay, it’s just a handshake, if I messed up it only means I’ve literally ruined my entire relationship with this man-

“Are you alright, Enjolras? You seem tense.”

“Me? Me, I’m fine. Are you? Sorry, that was weird.”

“Enjolras, we should go-”

“No, I’m fine,” I say, tossing Combeferre’s hand off my back. “I have to do this.”

“Um, are you two okay?” Cosette looks at me with her head tilted to one side. “Are you, like, good?”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “Just a bit nervous for university.”

“Aw, don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay,” Cosette says, smiling sympathetically. I tense up as she places a hand on my cheek.

Combeferre clutches my hand, and I feel tension in my back, my neck, and I look over at him helplessly. He clears his throat.

“Um, we should be going now,” he says. “Still lots to unpack before tomorrow.”

They bid us goodbye, and we return to our bedrooms in silence. It is nearly night, and neither of us have eaten. But Combeferre has bought bread, and we light a candle and talk away the time. Before bed, he offers to help me undress.

“I can do it myself,” I say. “I am a quick learner.”

And I am, but the reason I want to undress myself is so that I do not have to take off the bandages. Now that I can look proper, especially in the mornings, now that I can wake up and look in the mirror in my nightclothes and not have to see _them_ in the reflection- why on God’s earth would I ever give this up?

“Please do not harm yourself, my Apollo,” he says, untying my ponytail. I feel tears pricking in my eyes, and my heart leaps while his hands are tangled in my hair. He pulls me into a hug, and tears slide down my face, and I feel my breath hitch in my chest. My lip trembles. I clutch the back of Combeferre’s jacket, and his hands trace my shoulder blades gently, and he helps me to bed, as I can’t see through my tears.

“I won’t hurt myself, Ferre. I promise.”

He nods dubiously, and returns to his room. I draw a bath and debate whether or not to take off the bandages before deciding to unwrap just for a bath and to sleep. Sinking into the steaming water helps to release some of the tension in my back and shoulders, and I sigh, feeling the air fill my lungs. It’s an odd thing to consider a privilege, breathing. Most people are meant to take it for granted, but after years of Mother’s insistence on my wearing tighter and tighter corsets to disguise my less-than-feminine figure, I have begun to savor every moment when I breathe uninhibited.

After I bathe, I return to bed, scarcely bothering to even dry myself before I almost immediately fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! just wanted to let you know a couple of things I specify in the tags. the time period for this story is kinda undecided. I would say maybe steampunk-era, sort of? it's like I say in the tags. there's still corsets and stuff, but being lgbt+ is not uncommon and even semi-accepted in more major cities.


	2. Meeting Grantaire

_ Chers Maman et Papa, _ _  
_ _ I love Paris very much. Combeferre is treating me well, and his studies are going well. Mine are as well- I have taken to poring over his books every night and having him explain what I do not understand. I know you recall me always wanting to go to university, and I finally have a chance to- almost.  _

_ Thank you for the dresses and the shoes. They are lovely. I think that maybe you could start sending some in green or blue instead? I have started to prefer those colors to red. _

_ Love always, _

_ A _ _  
_

Jehan slams their glass to the table, laughing at Courfeyrac’s impression of me. I sigh, throw a spoon at Courfeyrac, and take another drink of water. 

“Combeferre, you never told me your brother was so amusing!” Jehan says in between bouts of laughter. “It almost makes me regret the lavish gifts. What use is a corset and a gown to me if I tear them laughing at him?”

Marius grins at me, sliding a piece of paper across the table to me.  _ Ask them about Historical Cultures lecture yesterday. _

“Hm, I believe I have all the more reason to laugh at you,” I say. “The lecture in Historical Cultures yesterday?”

Jehan pales and turns toward Marius. “You told him about that?”

“And now I’ll tell the rest of them.” Jehan groans and puts their head down on the table. “So we were talking about how men and women were treated in societies across the globe. The teacher is reading directly from the textbook here, but skips all the passages about variant genders and such. I sit there as they scribble furiously, and as soon as the teacher skips another passage, Jehan stands up and starts reading out their notes.”

“No,” they groan. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s alright. Your first ten points were good,” he says, patting them on the head. “The eleventh point, however, was their original note to me. Do you want to tell them what it said?”

Jehan sighs. “It said ‘So if you want to be an ignorant bloody idiot, at least do it without misquoting the textbook’.”

“The whole class erupted into laughter and they were bright red,” Marius chokes out from between giggles. “I believe you ended up getting a demotion, is that right?”

“Shut up,” Jehan says, glaring at Marius. I sigh, wondering how I got so lucky to have such friends. Back at home the only one I ever talked to was Combeferre, and that usually ended with us sitting in silence reading his textbooks. Now I have four new people that I talk to on a regular basis. If not friends exactly, at least acquaintances.

I hear the door to the tavern open, and in walks a man who is very obviously drunk. He confidently strides over to our table and puts his arm around Courfeyrac.

“Hello, Grantaire,” Courfeyrac says stiffly. “What brings you here? I thought you had enough wine at home.”

“Don’ be such an ass, Cou,” he says, looking genuinely disappointed. He looks me in the eye, and I suddenly recognize him. He sits in the back of my Philosophy class. I’ve attended lectures with this man. He made intelligent discussion with me not four hours ago. How is he so… well… drunk?

“Oh my god,” he says in a mock whisper. “He’s so hot, Cou. Why haven’t you introduced me to him?”

I nervously look to Combeferre. 

“Did I make him feel bad? I hate seein’ people’s face like that. Hey, hot guy! Stop bein’ sad!”

And he passes out on the table.

“Oh god.”

“Well, we can’t just leave him here,” Combeferre says.

“Can’t we?” Courfeyrac says, venom in his voice. “I say we give him the tab and leave him here on the table.”

“Don’t be an ass, Courfeyrac. Leaving a man here by himself? Drunk? We can’t have that.”

He rolls over and makes a noise that sounds somewhat like “Cou”. I step back, a bit nervous. The last time I was around drunk men, there was a lot of yelling and a lot of dress being torn, and I’m nervous it’ll happen again, but this man- Grantaire- seems alright enough. No risk of my dress being torn this time, at least.

“Do you know where his apartment is? Or if he has one?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, he needs to sleep somewhere.”

“Don’t look at me,” Jehan says. “I live with Courfeyrac and we don’t have any space for someone.”

Courfeyrac echoes the sentiment.

“We have an extra couch,” Combeferre says. “At least for one night, we can take him.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you-”

“It’s fine. Now just help me carry him to our place, it’s right down the road.”

Courfeyrac and Marius help Combeferre bring him to our apartment, while I stay back with Jehan and Cosette to pay for our food and drink. Once we finish scrounging up the francs we need to pay for everything, I walk Cosette and Jehan to their apartments, bid them goodbye, and return to my room in the apartment. 

When I open the door, Combeferre is scrubbing the floor. I grimace at the smell of wine flooding the rooms of the apartment.

“Oh, you’re home,” he says, looking up at me. His glasses have slid down his nose, and he pushes them up before continuing to clean the floor vigorously. “It’s gotten quite late, you should go to bed soon.”

I nod and go into the bathroom, passing Grantaire as I do. He’s asleep and snoring loudly, his waistcoat unbuttoned and his tie undone, hanging loosely round his neck.

A bath seems unnecessary tonight. And there’s a strange man in the house. I don’t exactly need to take off my bindings, right?

I just wash my face, change, and go to bed, but my mind cannot rest. I tie back my hair and peruse the bookshelf for a moment, leaving for the main room and sitting down on the couch with my philosophy book. I find a candle and light it up, reading over the chapters on recent philosophy.

I keep reading for a while, until--

“You’re pretty.”

I sit bolt upright, dropping the book onto the floor. There he is. Dark eyes glinting in the light from my candle. I grab the nearest thing to me, which is a letter opener with a golden handle, and brandish it at him. 

“Don’t come any closer,” I say, determined not to let my voice tremble. It disobeys me. “I will not hesitate to use this.”

“Ooh, hot guy with a knife,” he slurs, gazing up at me with a drunken smile on his face. “What’re ya gonna do? Stab me? Mm, that’d be nice.”

I gawk at him. He’s… surprisingly attractive, for a man who passed out on a tavern table mere hours before. He also happens to be looking at me as if I’m an angel, which sells his attractiveness further. His smile is heavenly. 

I step back, retreating to my chair, satisfied that he will not hurt me. My fingers are shaking as I turn the pages, and he looks at me, a small frown on his face.

“You’re sad,” he moans. “Don’t be sad. Your face is too pretty to be sad.”

“I’ve every right to be sad,” I say, turning the page. 

“Aw, why?”

I just keep reading. Soon, Grantaire is curled up on the couch next to me, asking me to explain things to him, reading bits aloud until morning. By then he is sober, and he asks me to help him dress and clean up.

“I get horribly shaky after I drink,” he says apologetically, showing me his twitching hands. I nod and draw a bath, undressing him to his underclothes and then closing the door. I begin to prepare breakfast, for myself and Combeferre and him as well. Typically it is our routine that I make our breakfast on Saturdays and Ferre on Sundays. On weekdays we often fetch our own or skip entirely. I usually fall into the latter.

Combeferre wakes, open collar of his nightclothes flopping to one side. He sees the fruit and the jam and me in the middle of it all, chest suspiciously flat, and sighs.

“You did not sleep.” It is not a question but an accusation. I continue setting the table. “Enjolras, you need to rest.”

I do not reply, instead cleaning my hands with a towel.

“ _ Apollo. _ ”

This makes me turn. He stands, leaning against the table in front of him with a look of desperation spreading across his face. 

“I don’t want to see you hurt. You will take a break from your bindings today.” I shake my head, but he puts up his hand. “No. That is an order, Enjolras. You must.”

“But-” I look towards the couch, recently abandoned by Grantaire.

“Fine. We will find his apartment, and then you will take a rest day. I am worried for you.”

“There is no need to worry. It does not hurt.”

“You and I both know that is not true.”

I bite my lip and tug at a loose strand from my ponytail, a nervous habit I’ve started to have ever since I cut my hair off. It does hurt. Very badly. When I sleep with them on, I wake with no breath in my body and a horrible pain in my chest. Running, and even walking from class to class leaves me winded and in pain. Combeferre has obviously noticed this, but has had the tact not to mention it around the others. For this I am very grateful.

“G’morning,” Grantaire says, dressed again and his hair loose in curls around his face. “Ooh, breakfast.”

We eat in silence, and I leave as Grantaire and Combeferre are discussing where he will be going after this. Locking myself in my room, I strip off my nightclothes and look defiantly at myself in the mirror. I sigh and unwind my bandages, staring myself down and forcing my eyes to the body I despised so.

It is akin to torture, watching that woman’s body move with my own. I let out an anguished wail, slamming my fists into the glass. It does not give. I collapse on my knees and wrap my arms around my torso, sobs racking my body.

Combeferre rattles the door handle, yelling my name. I sit there crying on the ground until he opens the door and finds me.

_ Chere Artemis, _

_ We are glad to receive a letter from you at long last. I am glad that you are well, and that your husband is treating you properly. Are you well? We have enclosed new gowns and sets of slippers to match. We would love to see you for tea soon.  _

_ RSVP, _

_ Maman et Papa. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone!! I plan to be updating this bad boy every other sunday. also, please critique me in the comments. I love receiving comments from you guys!!
> 
> i would also like to thank my fucking fabulous beta reader @valdera!!


	3. A Night With Jehan

_Chere Maman,_

_I am well, thank you. The gowns are lovely, and I think the teal one is quite beautiful. Maybe a lavender tea dress to round out the collection? I do not usually wear many dresses anymore, but I do enjoy the color. My friend Jehan has been borrowing them as well, and I hers._

_Ferre and I may come for tea someday, but not soon. School is mistreating us both. May I invite Courfeyrac and Jehan as well?_

_Love always,_

_A_

Combeferre brushes his hands through my hair, hands soft and gentle on my scalp. I stare ahead at his chest and wipe away the tears.

“Enjolras.”

I look up.

“Perhaps it is best if you go to bed now.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” I say in a shaky voice.

“Do you want to tell me why you punched the mirror?”

“Is it broken?”

“Only a crack. Don’t change the subject.”

“I-”

“I also found these on the floor beside the mirror,” Combeferre says, holding up the bindings. “I can hazard a guess as to what went on.”

I wrap my arms around him tightly, hoping that he won’t say it, hoping that I won’t have to look him in the eye and say that I don’t want to see myself reflected.

“Apollo, I do not want to see you hurt. You are too valuable to me, _mon cher_. Your life means so much to me, and if I can do anything to ensure you grow to be happier, I will do it. You needn’t do all of this by yourself. I am here for you.”

Our eyes meet. He gently kisses my forehead and pulls my hair back from my forehead.

“I will help you dress and we can go to that cafe that you like so much. Perhaps we will get coffee? Or we can send for Courfeyrac, Cosette, and Marius and we can talk of politics or school or-”

“Yes. I need them."

“Enjolras, you aren’t thinking of telling them, are you?”

“No. Never. I could never. I just want to savor my free time while I can.”

He nods and helps me wrap my chest again. I can tell he is wrapping them less tightly than usual, but I do not press it. I know he worries about me, and I should not give him more cause to fret over my health. I maltreat myself enough as it is.

After I finish dressing- by myself, under Combeferre’s supervision- we leave to call on Courfeyrac. He does not seem to be there, but Jehan answers the door almost immediately. They’re wearing the new tea dress I gave them, the blue-green complementing their eyes beautifully. They also have their hair up in a bun.

“It’s so nice of you two to visit,” they say, sweeping into the main room of the apartment. “I didn’t make anything for you, but I have leftover bread that Joly baked for us a few days ago. It’s still pretty fresh.”

I sit down, lean back, and feel something snap behind me. It feels like what my corset would do, except not as painful. I immediately sit back up, feeling unraveling bandages slip across my chest. The snap had to be the fasteners breaking.

“Excuse me, where is your bathroom?”

“Right this way,” they say. “There.”

I all but run inside and lock the door, stripping off my waistcoat and shirt as the bandages fall from my chest. The fasteners are bent almost completely out of place.

Sighing, I redo the wrappings, tighter this time. I can’t risk them coming undone again. I fasten them at the front this time, and return to Jehan and Combeferre, who are eating at the table.

“Are you alright?”

I nod, sitting down at the table and taking a slice of bread. We continue chatting, eating as we do, and after a while, the topic of family comes up.

“Jehan, what’s your family like?”

“They’re… nice, I suppose. Okay. I don’t usually talk to them much anymore, since I’m at university and also show up to family gatherings wearing formal gowns and looking so like a girl that my own relatives don’t know me.”

“That must be difficult,” I say. Combeferre shoots me a look. I know. It will be me as soon as I return home. They’ll wonder at why I cut my hair, and ask why I gained weight, and I’m certain that Combeferre or I will mess up on pronouns at some point. And if I ever invite any of my friends for a visit-- well, that would just be a disaster. And I no longer own a corset, so I would be unable to wear a dress. I couldn’t exactly ask for Jehan’s back, they would ask inconvenient questions, and buying another corset would be a waste of money. I have also eaten well in my time here, and my body has grown far more muscular. I am less of a slim thing than my parents no doubt remember me as. I have a figure much closer to that of a man’s than of a woman’s. No one would believe me to be a woman without considerable making up and corsetage. I do not mean to complain about that, though.

Jehan’s stare rouses me from my stupor. I’ve gotten so lost in my musings about my family that I forgot to listen to their stories about their family.

“Enjolras, what is your family like?”

“Oh, they’re fine,” I say. “Overprotective. My sister Diana is quite lovely, though. She is but fifteen, but she is already growing into a fine lady.”

“When did Diana turn fifteen?”

“Last week. Mother invited me to her birthday tea, but I was much too busy with my studies and with keeping you in line,” I say. The real reason that I didn’t go was that it would have required a formal gown, and the only one I own is currently serving as a waistcoat.

“You flatter yourself,” Combeferre says. “I know why you didn’t go-- Diana would have been hard-pressed to find someone to dance with if you stared everyone there down! Do you remember that ball we went to when you were younger? Diana wanted so desperately to dance with someone, but you fixed every suitor who approached with a glare so fierce that they refused on principle alone! What was the occasion for that, again?”

I freeze. It was my society ball, my official debut into womanhood. I look over at Combeferre meaningfully.

“I don’t quite remember. Maybe Diana's birthday?”

“No, it was in spring. I remember because Eponine’s society ball was that month as well. Do you think it was a-- oh.”

He realizes much too late, and looks at me apologetically.

“I believe it might have been my father’s birthday. He always was hard-pressed to have a birthday dinner because everyone was busy with coming-out parties and getting ready for their debuts.” This, at least, is not a lie. Father’s birthday is in April, just before debut season.

“Oh-- yes, that was it. You forget everything, don’t you, Enjolras?”

I smile, not so much as a joke as in relief. “Not as much as you do, Ferre.”

“Oh! Courfeyrac’s home!” Jehan gets up to get the door. I sigh, collapse back on the couch, and look at Combeferre disapprovingly.

“Really? Why did you bring it up?”

“I forgot it was at your coming-out ball. It seemed like a brotherly thing to do.”

“It was, but I had to make something up about the circumstances! I cannot keep doing that, Ferre. Please leave your carelessly worded childhood memories in your mind where they belong."

“I’m sorry, Apollo. I will not do it again.”

Courfeyrac walks in with Jehan on his arm. They’re grinning at Courfeyrac, who looks slightly exasperated.

“I win!"

“Yes, Jehan, you win,” he sighs. “I could not lace a corset by myself, and therefore you will be lacing me into a corset and every single other girlish item of clothing you have.”

“You’re going to look so pretty,” Jehan squeals, leading him towards their room. “You’ll see, all of these dresses will fit you absolutely perfectly. After all, they fit me, and you and I aren’t that different in body. Nor is Enjolras or Ferre, now that I think on it. Maybe we could-”

“No. You may dress Courfeyrac in ridiculous feminine garb, but I will nor have a part in this sort of thing. Nor will Enjolras.”

“You’re no fun,” Jehan says angrily, and slams the door in our faces.

After a long while, Courfeyrac opens the door, hair in as feminine of an updo as could be managed with his hair, wearing a pale blue gown and ivory high heeled slippers. He has makeup on as well, powdered face and rosy lips.

“Isn’t he so pretty?”

“Yes,” I say, swallowing my fear. Courfeyrac still looks like a man when he is all done up in his gown and his makeup. If he looks like a man, then I must still look like a woman even with my hair shorter and my chest bound down.

Combeferre grins at Courfeyrac. “What a lovely lady,” he says, draping an arm over his shoulder and pulling him close at the hip. “Tell me, miss, _comment t’appelles-tu?_ What do they call you?”

“They call me Courfeyrac,” he says, smiling coyly at Combeferre. “And you _, monsieur_?”

“I am called Combeferre.”

Courfeyrac spins himself against Combeferre, pressing his body up against him. He runs his hands down Ferre’s chest, hands settling gently on his hips. They gaze into each other’s eyes, noses practically touching with their faces so close.

Courfeyrac grabs Combeferre’s hair and pulls him in, lips meeting roughly and hands all over each others’ bodies. Jehan sighs and closes the door in a huff.

“Don’t tear my dress,” they yell from their room.

I watch for a little while longer, and return to our apartment, alone.

_Chere Artemis,_

_I am glad to hear that you are well. I do so love sending you gowns. I can just picture you, a proper wife, wearing gowns and your hair all done up and beautiful. Perhaps we will see you in some of these gowns at tea?_

_We would love to see you again soon. A month from now, if school still treats you well, then perhaps you can come with your new friends and Combeferre to meet us for a tea for your birthday!_

_Love always,_

_Maman et Papa_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! As a holiday treat for the 6 people who care about this story, I'm posting 2 chapters today! As always, thank you to @valdera for beta reading this crazy weird semi-canon-era story. This would be so much worse of a story if valdera wasn't editing for me.


	4. Enter Grantaire

_ Cher Maman et Papa, _

_ I am unsure if I will be available then. I will try to free up my calendar until then, but winter is difficult for us. We have many classes to be keeping up with, and university has been intensifying more and more.  _

_ If I am available, I must warn you- Courfeyrac and Jehan are quite interesting. They will certainly be the life of the party! _

_ Love always, _

_ A _

Upon my return, I hear noise in the apartment. I pick up a knife from the kitchen and look inside, concealing the knife in case it is Cosette or Marius coming to call. 

It’s Grantaire, picking up what appears to be an entire wardrobe spilled on the floor. I kneel down beside him, leaving the knife on the table and starting to gather clothing.

“Oh, it’s you. Enjolras, correct?”

“Why do you have so many clothes?”

“I am living here now,” he says with a grin. “My flatmate kicked me out when he found out- well. I am no longer living with him, in any case. So now I am here, and poor Claude will have to stay in our apartment all alone.”

“Why were you kicked out?”

“It is... kind of a long story,” Grantaire sighs, tugging on one of his curls. He has the same nervous motions as I do. “See, I was getting ready one morning, and Claude found me kissing a man whom I had brought home that evening.”

“Oh.”

“And I now realize that if I do not want to repeat my mistakes, then I most likely should not have told you this.”

I look at him confusedly. Yes, it is odd, but I love men as well, and aren’t I a man? So does Combeferre. That’s how he has always been. And of course I was in no place to judge anyone for their sexual behaviors. He was also quite kind and gentle to me, and condemning him would be a terrible thing to do.

“I will not tell anyone, and I do not wish to harm you. You and I are not too different,” I said, and immediately regretted it.

“You are like me?”

“I-- yes. I am like you.”

His eyes lit up, and a smile spread across his face. 

“You are the only one that I have ever met who is like me. I can fall in love with men or women or people like Jehan.” 

“I have only ever fallen in love with men,” I said. I look up at him, very aware of how small I am compared to him. He seems odd, but I like odd. After all, I spend time with Combeferre.

“Enjolras, I’m back!”

Speak of the devil. He sighs, collapsing onto the couch. I notice lipstick smudged across his lips. Of course he would be kissing Courfeyrac every moment he got. He’s been looking forward to university ever since Courfeyrac left a year ago, if only to come with him and be in love with him.

“Wash your face, Ferre. You’ve lipstick all over your mouth.”

He grins. “That’s not the only place I have lipstick.”

I glare at him with barely concealed disgust.

“I do not need to hear about your tryst with Courfeyrac,” I say, picking up more clothing. “I have to help Grantaire with his unpacking. You can reminisce by yourself. Quietly.”

He nods and leaves to go wash his face. I help unload Grantaire’s clothing into the armoire in Combeferre’s room-- luckily he had the presence of mind not to place me with Grantaire-- and place an extra blanket on his bed.

I hear a glassy sound behind me. Grantaire is kneeling next to his bed, sliding bottles under his bedframe. I look down at them- it’s mostly wine, with a few bottles of liquor. He looks up at me with a slightly guilty look on his face and puts the next bottle down. 

“It’s just where I keep them,” he says. 

“I don’t-- you shouldn’t be drinking this much,” I stammer, picking one up. It’s nearly empty.

Combeferre walks in and sees the bottles scattered on the floor. He sighs.

“Grantaire, one condition of living here with us is that you stop with all the drinking. Give me the bottles and I’ll lock them up for you, okay?”

“Alright,” he says, rolling his eyes and packing up his bottles back into the valise they came from. He hands the bottles to Combeferre. Satisfied, he takes the final bottle from me and leaves to hide them somewhere. Grantaire sighs and starts unpacking another valise, this one full of canvases and paint. I look over his shoulder. There’s a gorgeous painting of Courfeyrac, all the background painted the same blue as his waistcoat and the trademark smirk gracing his lips. I pick it up, seeing a warm yellow R in curling script on the bottom corner.

“Is this your signature?”

“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “Grantaire,  _ Grand-R _ , big R. You get it.”

I let out a small chuckle. He’s Grantaire, of course, it would be a pun.

“You know, you would be a good subject for a painting. Perhaps with your hair down. Your name’s Apollo, right? Maybe I could paint you as him. A lyre in your hands. Wearing perhaps a toga, or just a sheet over your thighs, sitting on a windowsill in the sun--” He shakes his head. For a moment, he seems entranced by the idea of me as his subject but then returns to his unpacking. 

“You wouldn’t want to be painted by me anyway.”

“Yes, I would,” I burst out. My face goes red. “I just- yes, I would love to be painted by you.”

He looks up at me, a paintbrush tucked behind his ear. I think I see a hint of blush on his warm, dark skin, but he hides his face once again as he takes out some more canvases and paints. I turn away and help him hang his portraits on the walls. 

Combeferre walks in, sees the portrait of Courfeyrac, and smiles. “How long did that take?”

“Uh, I think it was three days of work?”

“It’s beautiful,” he says, brushing his fingers over the canvas. Grantaire smiles shyly.

“You should paint Enjolras sometime,” Combeferre says with a smirk. “He would be a good subject for a portrait.”

“I was just talking about that!” Grantaire exclaims.

“And I was just refusing,” I say adamantly. “I don’t believe I would be good as a subject for anything. I do not sit still for anything except for books and lectures.”

“Then I will have Combeferre or Jehan lecture you on politics while I paint you. Or I will wait until you sleep and then paint you at night.”

I shake my head, turning around to straighten an already-straight picture frame. I can feel Combeferre’s smirk burning into the back of my head, and glare at the window so that he won’t see my reddening face.

Combeferre leaves, and I turn to help Grantaire unpack. He’s staring down at his paints.

“You really don’t sit still for anyone?”

“I do, I just don’t want you to-”

“You don’t want me to paint you.” He looks down at his feet. 

“That’s not what I meant,” I protest, reaching out to him, but he pulls away. 

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying, I have reasons!” I’m desperate at this point. Just when I thought I was getting someone to like me.

“Then what are they?”

I stop in my tracks. He can’t know. If I tell him- I already know I’m unnatural, but to hear the words coming from his mouth would be too much. 

Grantaire looks at me skeptically. “No reasons?"

“I have reasons, I just can’t tell you,” I say, hearing how pathetic of an excuse that is as I say it. “It’s not that I don’t want you to paint me.”

“Really? Because that’s how it sounds to me.” His voice is cold as he says this. I reach for him, hoping that he won’t leave, but he walks out, leaving me behind with an outstretched hand. 

_ Chere Artemis, _

_ We are pleased to hear from you and hope that Combeferre’s classes slow so that you may travel to us soon. You are so responsible.  _

_ Once you have the money, would you send us a photograph of yourself and Combeferre? We would so love to see you in your new home. Perhaps with Combeferre’s new schoolfriends as well?  _

_ Love always, _

_ Maman et Papa _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter today! Yay for another update! I'm gonna thank valdera again, because I seriously think this chapter in particular needed a good deal of editing. It definitely needed quite a bit of fixing up, lol. Thanks everyone for reading, and happy whatever-cold-holiday-you-celebrate!


	5. October 17th- 5 years earlier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for coming out, misgendering
> 
> This is a flashback centered around Combeferre.

_ Combeferre walked around the gardens with Mademoiselle Enjolras. She seemed less cheery than she was as a child. She had been so quiet and reserved lately, and ever since she started wearing corsets she had barely spoken a word. _

_ “Arti,” he said, using the nickname he always called her. “What’s wrong?” _

_ “Nothing,” she said, looking at the leaf-strewn ground. She was obviously lying. Combeferre put his arm over her shoulders, and she flinched. _

_ “You know I can tell when you are upset.” _

_ “Nothing is wrong, Ferre.” _

_ “Come on, out with it already. We are best friends, are we not?” _

_ “Of course we are, I just don’t want you to hate me. I could not bear that.” _

_ “Hate you? Why on Earth would I hate you?” _

_ “Because I’m a monster,” she said quietly into her scarf. _

_ “You are not a monster,” he chided. “I could never hate you, either.” _

_ “Do you swear it?” _

_ “I-- do you mean to actually swear a bond with me?” _

_ “Yes. Swear it by your life that you would not hate me for what I say.” _

_ “I swear it by my life, Arti.” _

_ She sighed and led him to a nearby bench. They sat, side by side, and Artemis took his hands gently, pulling them into her lap. _

_ “This is… difficult to say.” _

_ “It is alright,” he said, running a finger over her knuckles. “I swore, remember?” _

_ “On the inside, I am not a girl, but a man.” Arti said it quickly, with only a little hesitation. Combeferre could not help but laugh.  _

_ “Why are you laughing?” Arti looked offended. _

_ “Because it would be quite profitable for us both if we were to court,” Combeferre said, smiling. “I am not, as many men are, able to love women. I love men. If you are a monster, I am as well. We are not so different.” _

_ Arti laughed too. “I suppose we are not.” _

_ “But in seriousness, what shall I call you? I do not expect that Artemis will well suit a man.” At this, his friend was nearly glowing with delight.  _

_ “You can merely call me Enjolras for now. And I am a ‘he’ as well.” _

_ “That is quite alright with me,” Combeferre said. He smiled at Enjolras. Enjolras. It really did suit him quite well. Much better than Artemis. That had never suited him, which is why he had taken to calling him Arti until now. _

_ “Ferre?” _

_ “Yes, Enjolras?” _

_ “I love you.” _

_ “I love you too, my brother.” He sat with Enjolras there, embracing him on the bench as the sun set over the estate. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter, but I hope to incorporate more regular flashback chapters for context. Thanks again to valdera for beta reading!


	6. Stormy Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. When Enjolras's bad binding habits finally catch up to him. Trigger warning for that, by the way, and for misgendering (unintentional).

_Chers Maman et Papa,_   
_We are short on money right now. It will be quite a while before we can purchase even one glass plate._   
_I believe that you may be shocked to see me- I have grown quite a bit in the two months that I have been gone from you. But I will send you a photo nonetheless._   
_Love always,_   
_A_

“Grantaire! Wait!”

I run through the busy streets, rain pelting my face and wind blowing at my hair. He walks fast, far ahead of me, head down and arms wrapped around himself. I feel tears blossoming in my eyes as I try to reach him.

My silly obsession with not being seen in anything close to the nude ruined my friendship with Grantaire. I ruined it. I ruined everything with him.

Why did I have to go out and say it? Why did Combeferre talk about painting me? Why does Grantaire have to be so goddamn beautiful and so persuasive and why is he still so far ahead, no matter how I run?

God, it’s cold. I feel like I’m going to freeze. The rain-- is it turning to sleet?-- doesn’t help either. It stings when it hits bare skin, and I squint to prevent any of it from going in my eyes. It’s painfully cold, and Grantaire only seems to be getting farther from me.

Finally, I catch onto his sleeve.

“Why are you following me?”

I gasp for breath. “I-- I had to--”

His face suddenly turns from bitter anger to worry. I cough loudly, hearing the rattle in my chest as I try to catch my breath back into my lungs.

“Apollo, are you alright?”

“I’ll-- I’ll be fine,” I wheeze, bent over, hand clutching my shirt. It feels as though my lungs are brittle, snapping with every cough and hack.

“We need to get you out of the storm,” he says, leaning me against him and pulling me towards a nearby shop. It’s a cafe, and I can barely read the name in the wind. Something with an M or an N, perhaps. I’m shivering with cold and fear.

“R, good to see you again,” a woman says from behind the counter.

“You too, Matelote,” he says, sitting me down in a soft chair. “Get me a hot drink, I don’t care what. Not alcohol. And a towel too. I’ll pay later.”

“Are you alright, Grantaire?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, unbuttoning my waistcoat. “Be quick, please.”

“Of course.”

I shiver in my chair, fearing that Grantaire will try to undress me and see my bindings. My hands shake, and I try desperately to breathe through the clutches of cold and pain in my ribs. It hurts, and I feel a sharp, piercing pain in my side.

Grantaire sits beside me, draping a towel over my shoulders. I smile shakily at the warmth, and he brushes my soaked hair away from my face.

“Why did you run after me?”

“I h-had to… I had to find you,” I stammer. “You left in such a hurry. You were so upset, and I needed to tell you that I do still want you to paint me.”

He laughs. “You came out into the cold and the storm just to tell me that you still want me to paint you?”

I can speak no longer. I just nod.

“Apollo, you fascinate me.”

The woman-- Matelote-- hands me a hot drink. I cannot tell what it is. She smiles sympathetically at me.

“It will be alright, mademoiselle.”

I stiffen at the title. “Mademoiselle.” “Miss”. She called me a lady. Grantaire looks offended for me as well.

“He’s a man,” he says. “Not a mademoiselle.”

“My apologies,” she says, bowing her head. “Monsieurs.”

Grantaire spoke up for me. He defended my right to be called a man. Why would he do that for me? He always spoke up for Jehan in that way if one of us made a mistake. Did he know? Oh god, had he already told everyone?

Again he pulls my hair away, out of my eyes. I lean my head towards Grantaire, my forehead touching his. His face is warm, and I press my hand to his cheek to warm it up.

“Oh!” He pulls away. “Your hands are like ice, Enjolras.”

I put my hands in my lap, embarrassed.

“No, no, it’s alright. You need warmth. Matelote, do you have blankets here?”

She nods and rushes upstairs, out of sight. Grantaire hands me the drink, and I take a long sip from it. It warms my throat and lips, and I notice the dark taste of coffee. Not again. I recall my staying up for days, even weeks, poring over books, my hands constantly shaking, dozens of teacups with coffee grounds in the bottom littered around my room and over my desk. Combeferre having to force the cup away from my mouth. I hear the clatter of the saucer against the cup, and put down the coffee, wrapping myself in the towel as best I can.

Grantaire places the blanket over my shoulders. I hide my face in the warm, scratchy wool, trying not to remember the years at my mother’s house that the taste brings back. When I look up again, he has another drink, this one smelling less like my old bedroom and more like…

“Tea. I can take the coffee.” He doesn’t press the issue, and for that I am grateful. Instead, he tentatively puts his arm around me and pulls me in towards him, my face against his chest. The cold is nearly gone now, and I feel my shirt drying, and my bindings as well. They are no longer frigid against my chest, now just giving me a slight chill.

“Do you want to go back to the apartment now?”

I nod and let the blanket fall from my shoulders. My waistcoat, which he had hung by the fire, was pleasantly warm when I put it back on. My chest is still painful, and I don’t know how well I will be able to speak, but I hold onto Grantaire and hide in his coat. He picks up an umbrella from the rack and walks me back to our apartment.

“Enjolras,” he says gently.

I look up at him, teary-eyed.

“I would be utterly delighted to paint you someday.”

I smile, my heart full from what he says. He puts an arm around me and holds me close to him.

“Ah, you’re back,” Combeferre says, not looking up from his book. After I don’t respond, he looks up at me. As soon as he sees us, he leaps out of his chair and runs towards me.

“Are you okay? Grantaire, what happened to him?”

“We had a bit of a misunderstanding. I walked out, and after a few minutes, he started following me. When he caught up to me, he was barely able to breathe, and I took him into a nearby cafe to calm him down. He still isn’t talking. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

Combeferre puts his hands on my face and forces me to look up at him. I feel a sudden pang of guilt. I made him worry. I made Grantaire worry.

“Enjolras, please talk to me,” he says, a tremor in his voice. “Please.”

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” I say. Even this gets me slightly winded. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, helping me to the couch. I take off my waistcoat and stretch. Pain shoots up my spine and all over my torso. I recoil, my body contracting and curling up in a ball without me even realizing it.

“Apollo!” Grantaire puts a hand on my back. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I gasp out. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” he says, brow furrowing.

“Well, I am,” I snap.

“That’s Enjolras for you,” Combeferre sighs. “Even when he’s hurt, he’ll find the time to snap at you for some little issue. I wish I didn’t know that about him, but I’ve been by his side when he’s hurt enough to know his little… quirks.”

“I do not have--” I break off, another stab of pain in my chest.

Combeferre lifts me up and moves me to the bedroom. I protest loudly, but he sits me down on the bed and unbuttons my shirt.

“You cannot wear these any longer,” he says, tugging at my bindings. “I refuse to let you go on like this.”

“Not in front of Grantaire, please not in front of him,” I beg, pushing him away, trying to kick him away from me. But my strength is fast fading, and I can’t fight him off.

“I’m sorry, Enjolras, but I don’t want you ending up dead because of this.”

As soon as he unwinds the final wrapping, I inhale deeply. Finally, finally, I can breathe again. I let out a noise that is half-sob, half-breath. My eyes water and I can fight no longer. I collapse, in tears, onto Combeferre’s lap. It is mostly from the pain, but partially from the idea of going out without bindings in front of Grantaire.

“Perhaps it is wise that you rest in your room for a little while. At least for the rest of the night.”

I sigh and nod, lying back on the bed. Combeferre smiles sadly at me and closes the door behind himself. I wait until he is gone, rewrap my chest, and go back to bed. My chest is agonizingly painful, and I lay there in bed, crying until I finally fall asleep.

_Chere Artemis,_   
_We hope you are well. In this envelope, we have enclosed seven invitations to your birthday ball. It will be at the end of this month. You may invite as many of your friends as you wish. If any are courting or married, they may come under one invitation._   
_Please write soon!_   
_Maman et Papa_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! I may start publishing every Sunday regularly. And thank you, valdera, for being my awesome beta reader! This fic would be a hot mess without her.


	7. December 25th- 2 Years Earlier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for Enjolras being misgendered by his mother. It's only at the beginning of the chapter.

_I sat in the Enjolras family drawing room. Apollo was sitting next to me, my gift to him in his hands. In my haste to purchase something that he would like, I had forgotten to disguise the gift as something appropriate for a young lady of status._

_“Artemis, why do you have a book there? Who gave that to you?”_

_He flushed red, the same color as that ugly gown he wore._

_“Give it to Combeferre. It is not proper for a young woman such as yourself.”_

_Reluctantly he handed over the book of essays I had bought specially for him. The party moved on, and I awkwardly led him aside near the end of the party. We climbed up from his balcony, which faced the back of the house, and up onto the roof, where we would often go to be alone._

_“Here, your book,” I said. He took it, tucking it into his crinoline. “I am… sorry about your mother.”_

_“It’s fine,” he said, pulling his knees up to his chest._

_“It is most certainly not fine,” I said, putting my hand on his back. He shied away._

_“What do you know of my life?” Enjolras turned fiercely towards me, tears in his eyes. “I suffer every day, forced to behave like a proper lady--” he practically spit the last word-- “and you don’t make it any better, you know? Giving me something to wish for. Treating me like a man. I get used to it, and I start hoping that people will keep doing it, and when they don’t, I--”_

_He burst into tears, grabbed my jacket, and leaned toward me, shaking. I touched his shoulder gently, and he clutched my lapel tighter and tighter. I had no idea what to do. Comforting people had never been my strong suit. Sure, I had been creating a plan, but it wasn’t done yet._

_College… it was my basic idea. I wanted to bring him along somehow, but I hadn’t finished thinking it out. I couldn’t get his hopes up with a half-formed plot. But Enjolras was crying. I had to do something._

_“Enjolras, I have an idea.”_

_He looked up at me, eyes red. “Huh?”_

_“I plan on going to Paris for college,” I said haltingly. “Do you… want to come with me? Take you with me and you can dress as a male there?”_

_“Paris?” He looked disbelieving. “You would take me to Paris with you?”_

_“You and I would have to be married, but-”_

_“I would do anything to leave this hell.”_

_I took Enjolras’ hand. “You don’t understand, Apollo,” I said. “Married. Us. You, in a white dress, your parents congratulating us-”_

_“I am quite aware of the procedures of marriage in France, Ferre.”_

_“Would we be legally wed? Or would there be a fake priest and no real marriage?”_

_“I mean no offense, but I certainly do not want to wed you,” he says with a damp chuckle. “We could bribe someone.”_

_“No, I know a man. He can send someone for us.”_

_“Combeferre, I am forever in your debt.”_

_“God, I don’t want that,” I said. “Just promise me one thing. Don’t ever wear that stupid red dress again.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A plan to go to Paris? Hmm what could that be??? Lol. Thanks again to valdera for beta reading!
> 
> If you could spare a moment to comment and give kudos, that would be greatly appreciated!


	8. Fantine and a Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning for someone assuming that Enjolras is female.

_Chers Maman et Papa,_

_I am very excited for the ball. I will definitely be inviting many of my friends. I hope you are ready for some quite interesting surprises._

_Love always,_

_A_

I chuckle at Jehan, who’s wrapped themself in deep purple silk and is pretending to be Eponine, who is pretending to be angry.

“If you keep distracting us, we won’t finish your clothes in time,” Fantine says, rolling her eyes. She works well with cloth and has been helping fit us for party clothes. None of the gowns I’ve given Jehan really suit a birthday party, so Cosette sent for her mother to make clothing for us.

“Don’t I look lovely, Ponine?”

She just sighs and returns to embroidering flowers on the hem of Cosette’s new dress. I watch as Cosette measures Courfeyrac’s chest and shoulders.

“So do your parents know about Courfeyrac and Combeferre? Or that Jehan is neither man nor woman?” Grantaire asks from beside me.

“No,” I say, embarrassed. “They’re… old-fashioned. I don’t think they’d approve.”

“Is that why you went to Paris?”

“Yes,” I say. “I don’t want to have to live according to their terms. If I fall in love with someone, I want it to be my decision.”

Grantaire looks entranced.

“See, my family’s quite… progressive. They always accepted me, even after I told them I fell in love with a man.”

“That must be nice,” I say. My family would be nowhere near that accepting. Even if I was with a man, they still think I’m married. Ferre and I never got legally married, we planned and faked our way through it. I burned the dress with him on our wedding night.

“Okay, we’re done measuring!”

Courfeyrac steps down from the footstool that Fantine had us standing on.

“Enjolras? You’re next.”

I step up and remove my vest. Fantine wraps her tape measure around my neck, making a mark on her paper. She continues measuring me, frowning more and more as she does. Finally, she gets to my chest. After she measures it, she looks at her markings on the paper, glances at a sizing chart, and tilts her head to one side, confused.

“Enjolras, would you mind coming with me for a moment?”

I nod and step off the stool, following her out to the hallway as Jehan throws lace at Combeferre.

“Your measurements are-”

“Yes, I know I’m small.”

“Not that,” she says, flipping the paper around to show me. “They’re much closer to womens’ measurements than mens’. This hip-waist difference especially. And when I measured your chest, it seemed like you were uncomfortable.”

I look down at my chest. I gave myself slightly more room to breathe today.

“I don’t want to assume why you are doing this, so I would just like you to tell me.”

“I’m a man.”

“You dress like one and act like one, yes, but your-”

“No, on the inside. Not physically, just internally. I’ve been like this for as long as I can remember. When I was young, Combeferre used to lend me his trousers for running around in the woods, and I made him call me Leo. I think I had a cousin called Leo that I admired.”

“I will make the vest slightly tight on you. It should help hide your chest.”

“Thank you, Fantine. I trust that you will not tell anyone?”

“I have suffered far too much from one of my secrets being revealed. I will keep yours.”

She lets me back in and keeps making notes on her paper. I sit down next to Combeferre, who looks over at Fantine.

“What did she want to talk about?”

“She was confused by my measurements,” I quietly say. “She knows now.”

Ferre puts his arm around me, and we silently sit for a little while longer as Fantine attempts to measure Marius while pointedly ignoring Jehan and Eponine’s lace fight.

Grantaire sat down next to me. “Awful stuff, clothing. Especially fancy stuff. I despise it.”

I nod assent. My only experiences with formal attire have been bustles and corsets and hair piled high on my head. The only time that I have ever enjoyed wearing formal wear was when I tried on Combeferre’s party clothing before a soiree.

Fantine and Cosette shooed us out a few minutes later, saying that they needed to focus on working if they wanted to get the clothing done before the party. I return to the apartment with Grantaire and Combeferre.

I sit down in my room, pulling off my shirt and wrappings. My chest has bruises on it, yellow and purple patterning my ribs. It’s healing, but slowly, and Combeferre forces me to take them off every night before I sleep and all day on weekends unless I’ll be going out. I spend most of my weekends in my room anyway.

“Enjolras? Can you come in here? We need you,” Grantaire calls.

“Just a moment,” I call back, quickly redoing my wrappings and putting my shirt back on. I find them in the doorway, staring down at the floor. “What are you looking at?”

“This,” Grantaire says, a black-and-white kitten in his hands. It grabs onto his shoulder and meows loudly. “She’s so small, Enjolras. Look how small she is.”

“Are you crying?”

“She’s just so little,” he says, running a finger over its tiny head.

“Why is there a kitten here?”

“We’ve been asking around, but no one knows whose it is. Apparently, we have a kitten now.”

“You know what? That’s fine.” I sigh, throwing my hands in the air. “Name it, then.”

“Hm..” Grantaire ponders it for a moment. “How about Artemis?”

I look quickly at Combeferre. He’s looking at me as well. _Fuck._ His eyes go from me to Grantaire back to me. He looks confused.

“You know. Apollo. Artemis. Like the gods?”

“Uh, how about something else?”

Grantaire looks completely confused as to why I look so worried. I’m a little confused as well. I mean, it’s not like Artemis is a terrible name. I’m worried, mostly, that he’ll call for the kitten and I’ll respond. Or I’ll resent it for bearing my old name.

“How about Luna?” Combeferre interjects. “Like Artemis. Just… not.”

“Luna is perfect,” I say quickly, sweeping the cat into my arms. Luna meows at me and paws at my nose, and my heart melts. _This is what domestic life is like_ , I think. _Certainly not what Maman would want for me. Living as a man with two other men, neither of whom I am married to, with no children and a kitten as my child._

I sit down on the couch with Combeferre, watching the sun shining down on the roads outside. Grantaire sits down as well, with Luna purring contentedly on my lap. Ferre puts an arm around me, and Grantaire smiles at us both.

_I could get used to this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lil filler chapter for you guys. Thanks, @valdera, for being my beta, and kudos and comments are much appreciated!


	9. May 5th- Current Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback chapter, yet again. This is the last one for now, I promise. Real plot stuff is coming soon!

_ “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the fake priest said. “You may kiss the bride.” _

_ Combeferre winked at Enjolras and kissed him dead on the lips, feeling a sharp bite on his bottom lip. He smiled at him, and the pretend glare Enjolras gave back was priceless. _

_ The reception was teary. Enjolras’ mother was crying the whole time. Enjolras himself left early, merely after a few dances, and changed out of his wedding dress into the second suit that Combeferre had bought. It was much too big on him, but Combeferre could tell that he was elated to be wearing it.  _

_ They sat down around a bonfire once all the guests had gone with Combeferre’s connection, Montparnasse, and the fake priest. They set the dress ablaze, and Enjolras laughed as it burned. _

_ “What do you think of that now, Mother? Such a gorgeous dress!” _

_ He threw the veil in the fire.  _

_ “He seems to be enjoying this a little too much,” Montparnasse mused. “Have you discussed what you are going to do once you leave?” _

_ “We are going to go to my parents’ house for the next few weeks, plan for Paris, and then depart in less than a month.” _

_ “You were willing to leave your parents behind and lie to everyone for him?” _

_ “Apollo is my brother,” Combeferre said. It rang in his heart when he did. “I would do anything short of kill a man for him, and I have you for that if I need it done.” _

_ Montparnasse laughed. “That you do, Ferre.” _

_ Enjolras rushed over to them, practically tripping over himself in his excitement. “Look! I singed my hair by accident. Now we’ll have to cut it!” _

_ A few centimeters of hair was blackened from heat. The rest was curlier than usual and still just as golden, glowing in the firelight. _

_ “Come here,” Combeferre said, and beckoned Enjolras to his side. “You, sit here with us. Talk with the other men.” _

_ Enjolras beamed at being called a man. He had still not become used to it, even in the year of Ferre calling him by his real name in private. He curled up beside him, his head on Combeferre’s lap. Suddenly he was struck by just how small Enjolras was. _

_ “You smell like coffee again,” Combeferre said. “Have you been-” _

_ “Only one cup, and yesterday.” _

_ “That hardly matters. I cannot have you getting addicted again.” _

_ “I’ll be fine, Ferre.” _

_ “No more coffee, okay?” _

_ “Fine. No more coffee.” _

_ Combeferre pet Enjolras’ hair. It was soft, except for the singed ends, which nearly crumbled when he touched them. Enjolras made a contented noise and settled down on his lap. _

_ “You look very comfortable there,” he said amusedly. “Are you quite ready for bed? It is our wedding night, after all.” _

_ “Oh, hush. And yes. To bed, then?” _

_ “We ought to at least sleep in the same room so no one is suspicious.” _

_ He nodded assent, and they went up to bed. Enjolras let him cut off the singed hair, as short as was proper for ladies, and dressed in his usual nightdress. They slept, curled up together, and Combeferre promised himself that he would never let Enjolras be hurt again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to @valdera for being my wonderful, amazing beta reader. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	10. Mme Enjolras Arrives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance about this chapter...

_ Artemis, _

_ There are important matters we have to discuss. We will be at your apartment in Paris in a matter of a few days. Do not reply to this letter.  _

_ Maman et Papa. _

I stare at the letter in shock. Here? This letter is dated 3 days ago. Maman will be here in a matter of hours, expecting her daughter. 

“Ferre,” I called out in a worried voice. He was at the table in moments. I hand him the letter and he drops it in surprise. 

“Cosette.”

“What?”

“Cosette,” he says. “Get Cosette. She’ll be a convincing you. You look similar enough.”

“And what of Grantaire? And we sleep in different rooms, different beds. What will we-”

“Hush now. We will tidy now. Go out and find Cosette. I will take care of the apartment while you are gone.”

I nod, rushing out of the apartment. He starts to clean it up as I am leaving.

“Cosette!” I call, seeing her and Marius wandering the road outside. “Cosette, come with me. Quickly. There’s no time to explain. Marius, I am sorry, but I must borrow Cosette for an afternoon. Perhaps a night.”

He nods assent, perhaps not yet comprehending this.

“Come to the apartment with me. I need you.”

“Enjolras, slow down! Why do you-- agh!” I pull her through the door to find a very dusty Combeferre. 

“I found her,” I say.

“That you did,” he replied, an amused look on his face. “I cleaned. Cosette, there is something rather important that we need you for. See, my mother-in-law is coming to town today and she thinks I am married to a woman named Artemis. However, Artemis and I were never wed, and I do not know where she is now. We parted ways after a while, but she still thinks we are living together and has my address. She looks like you. We need you to pretend to be her.”

“Okay,” Cosette says. “That’s fine by me. So the woman will be my mother, then?”

“Yes. Call her Maman. And you’re wearing red, good. Here, let me help you put your hair how she used to, alright?”

Cosette sits obediently as I undo her hair and let it fall around her shoulders like I used to have it. She smiles, shaking her head experimentally. “You are certainly strange, Enjolras,” she sighs. “I will need to know more about this Artemis.”

“She liked to read,” Combeferre says. “And was quite the rebel in her day. I was quite drawn to her for this reason.”

“It seems you are always drawn to well-read rebels,” Cosette says, sneaking a glance at me. “And she looks like me, you say?”

“Yes. She and Enjolras are siblings. The sister that his family never speaks of. He has also been quite disowned, but his Maman likes his sister more. She wishes to repair her relationship with her. Alas, I have not the heart to tell her that I am living with her Apollo and not her Artemis.”

I get a lump in my throat. This is too close to reality.

“I understand.” She nods solemnly. “And what of Grantaire? Is this yet another secret from your maman?”

I smile awkwardly, a response clear. She sighs. “I suppose that we will have to keep you and R hid from the world for a little while, hm?”

Grantaire is out at the moment. We will try to keep it that way.

I straighten a portrait. “Should we have something baked? I could go out and buy some bread, perhaps.

“No, I will. You and Cosette finish cleaning,” Ferre says. He grabs his pouch of francs and leaves. “Don’t ruin anything while I’m out.”

I get to work, making the bed in my room and messing it up in a way that I would mess it up. Cosette watches me from the doorway, pulls a ribbon out of her hair, and tosses it on the bed as well. She sits down and picks up a book flipping through it quickly before placing it on the bed beside the ribbon.

“I can read you a bit from my books and explain it to you as well. That would make it much easier for you to talk with her, even though she probably won’t ask about any of your interests.”

“Mhm. That would be good. What was she most interested in?”

“Politics. Like me. I lent her my political books and she would devour them in a matter of hours. And she was smart, too, smart enough to go to school and be a doctor or a lawyer if she had been a boy. She debated disguising herself as a man to go to university, actually.”

Cosette smiles. “She sounds so nice. I wish I could have met her.”

“Maybe she’ll return someday,” I say. I hand Cosette a philosophy book. Ancient Greeks. I like the classics. Maman won’t suspect anything if that’s what she talks about.

“Here. Read this, ask me about any of the stuff you don’t understand. I’m going to tidy up the bathroom.” 

“Okay. I’ll stay in the main room then?”

“Go ahead.” I wave her out and get to work hiding all evidence of my male clothing. It’s quite obviously too small for Combeferre, so it can’t be visible. I hang up my shirts, which were lying on the floor, and once I’m done, I head outside, a book under my arm. Hopefully, I won’t be too suspicious if I read on the bench a few doors down.

After a while, I see my mother approaching out of my peripheral vision. She’s dressed in her same old Sunday best, wearing that stupid old hat that she used to put on me. Combeferre opens the door, smiles, and kisses her on both cheeks lightly. He invites her in, and I see the door close. I’m far away from the door, so when Maman leaves, she won’t see me. I sigh, put my book down, and watch the door.

I sit there, watching the windows on the wall. It’s still very snowy out, and I’m lost in thought when I hear a door open. I quickly glance over to see… Grantaire. Opening the door to my apartment.

I sit stock-still for a moment, then leap up. He can’t see my mother. If he does… I can’t bear to think about that. I run towards him as I hear something coming from the apartment.

“Who’s this? Cosette?”

“That’s my daughter, idiot. Who are you?”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh God, he’s about to see. 

“Ferre, where’s Apollo? Is he out?”

“Who on Earth is Apollo?”

“You look a lot like him… so does Cosette.”

I have to think fast. I grab him by the arm to stop him, pulling him back into the doorway. He looks confusedly at me, from me to my mother, from my mother to Cosette, then from Cosette to me. Something like realization crosses his face. 

“Apollo, is that your-”

Without thinking, I pull him in and kiss him dead on the lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger, lol. Big shoutout to valdera for editing this, and as always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.


	11. A Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend convinced me to upload another chapter today... you're welcome.

Ferre and Cosette watch in shock. I turn him around and position our bodies so that Maman can’t see our faces. I pull his head down, turning it to whisper in his ear.

_“Come with me once we stop. Do not think, just act.”_

“Wh-”

“ _Don’t speak. And don’t call me by my family name.”_

I pull apart from him and face in towards his shoulder. He grins at my mother, then smiles back down at me.

“Sorry. He does this often. We are in the wrong room. I apologize,” I say, disguising my voice as much as I can.

“Mm, are we? Oh. Sorry.” Thank God, he plays along, not revealing my ruse. Combeferre chuckles, and I hear Cosette laugh nervously as well. Hopefully, she handled my mother well before I arrived to ruin it all.

“Goodbye, neighbors!” I call out. “Many apologies.”

I lead him out of the apartment and turn a corner, before glaring at him with barely concealed anger.

“What the hell were you doing?”

“It’s my apartment too now! What the hell, Enjolras?”

“You can’t just barge in!”

“That’s what I’ve been doing every day since I started living with you,” he says. “I’m just confused. Who was that woman? The blonde that looks like you?”

“My mother,” I say bitterly. “She doesn’t know that I’m-” I cut myself off.

“Oh. She doesn’t know you love men, yes?”

I nod, grateful that he gave me a way out. I wasn’t about to tell him that I was born as a woman-- that would be a tragedy.

“I am quite lucky that I have never had to experience that. My family is very forward thinking. If I were to bring someone like Jehan home, they would even accept that, I would think.”

“Not all of us were lucky enough to grow up in the heaven that you did,” I say. “Some of us didn’t get the luxury of choosing who they marry based on love.”

“You refer to yourself then?”

“My mother was… not pleased… when I went to Paris. There was a marriage at home that I left behind. I am sure that she would be angry if she met with me. Perhaps so angry that she would hurt me.”

“My deepest condolences,” he says. “What a hell that must be.”

He puts a hand on my back and rubs gently. I stiffen momentarily but then relax. He walks with me around campus, gently leading me around the paths, hand on the small of my back all the way.

“You are such a strange man, Enjolras,” he says, eyes twinkling green.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” he says with a laugh. The snow crunches beneath our feet as we walk through the campus.

We wander for a while, his hand still resting casually on my back. I shiver. The weather is cold, and I didn’t wear an overcoat when I came outside to read.

He stops and looks over the school, seeing the long roads and the calm courtyards. We are the only ones out today. It is still early, but not too early, and the sun is already sinking.

“Grantaire?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For just following along with me. I owe you everything.”

“It is no problem at all. You took me in. You and I are equals now.”

“Just equals?”

“Perhaps friends, then.”

“I like the sound of that,” I say with a laugh. His voice is comforting to me, and it makes me feel much more at ease.

We walk into the campus’s gardens. The snow coating the ground is beautiful, and I can see the Seine flowing across the way. There’s a small gazebo, and we walk in, sitting down on the small bench inside.

“Apollo?”

“Yes?”

“I want to know you more. You are… intriguing.”

“You are intriguing as well, Grantaire,” I say. “I think I want to know you more as well.”

He tilts his head to one side. “I have questions. You are a strange man, Enjolras.”

“Go ahead. Question me.”

“Why did you kiss me when I went into your apartment? It seems counterproductive. Wouldn’t your mother recognize you? And why was Cosette there? It looked like she was pretending to be in love with Combeferre. Was she meant to be pretending to be someone else?”

I stood there, startled into silence. My plan was poorly worked out. Of course, it was, I’d worked it out in literally an hour. He tilted his head and I could literally see him working things out in his head.

“And who did your mother think Cosette was? Her daughter? You have another sister? You said you only had one sister, Diana. And she didn’t know who you were either.”

I couldn’t say anything. How could I? I would probably just dig myself into another hole. I tug at my ponytail nervously. He looks at me, now worried as well. I know he’s seen me when I’m scared before, and God, am I scared now.

“I’m not ready to tell you,” I say. “I can’t. Not yet.”

“That’s fine,” he says. “Take your time. I don’t want to rush you. I just have one more thing to ask you.”

“Yes?”

He steps closer to me, placing his hands gently on my hips.

“When you kissed me… did you like it?”

My face is burning hot. It hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt. I reach out, my hands gliding over his waist and landing around him. I’m trembling, and I push my hands harder onto him, trying to stop them from shaking.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I… I did.”

“One more question. Last one, I promise.” Our lips are almost touching.

“Yes?” I breathe, voice not even a whisper.

“Can I kiss you again?”

In response, I lean slightly up, and he is warm and soft and comfortable. His arms are around me, and my hands are tangled in his curls, and we are one. He is so close to me that I can feel his body heat against me.

I have never been kissed like this before. This is the first time that it has been born not out of necessity, but out of desire. It is a new sensation, and not one that I dislike.

He pulls away, both too late and much too soon. We stand there, intertwined in the gazebo, bodies pressed together, and I am lost in his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Again, thanks valdera, and again, kudos and comments are appreciated!


	12. In Which There Is Feuilly

_ Artemis, _

_ What you pulled at our visit was detestable. I know that other woman was not you, and those disgusting men who arrived and made a scene halfway through my stay were horrific. I had hoped that you would not be so affected by Paris, but it seems I was gravely mistaken. You will fix such behavior or there will be consequences. _

_ You are still permitted to come to your holiday party, but if you make a scene I will not hesitate to force you out by any means. _

_ Mme. Enjolras. _

Some days have passed since the incident with my mother. Grantaire and I have not spoken of what happened since. Combeferre has become suspicious of me. The glances I steal towards him have become more and more obvious since.

I’ve been watching him often. When I look at him, I feel… happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. I don’t know why I feel this way. Is this love?

Luna plays at my feet as I read. She has become very playful recently and loves batting at my ponytail.  Grantaire is out, and Combeferre is cooking. There has been an unseasonably warm spell lately. I have had a hard time with the wrappings. I often wake drenched in sweat, early in the morning, unable to breathe. My tendency to become out of breath has gotten more prevalent as of late. 

I sit by the window, sweat dripping down my face. My chest is tight. It feels like I am going to suffocate in here. 

Heat. I’d been reading over some of Combeferre’s medical books to see what the effects of my bindings would be, and evidently this was extremely unhealthy. I take a deep breath and something feels like it snaps. I bite my lip and try to concentrate on my reading.

“So warm for winter,” Combeferre remarks. 

I just nod. I can’t get the breath to do anything else.

I try to ignore it as my breath gets shallower. No use. I stumble backwards, the chair sliding across the floor with a sharp sound.

Grantaire walks in as my vision gets hazy and unclear, and they both watch in horror as I fall from my chair to the ground. I hear Combeferre call out my name as my eyes sink shut, and all becomes blackness.

“Apollo. Apollo, wake up.”

I open my eyes. It is dark. No light is visible through my large window. I see Combeferre at my side, worry creasing his face and a candle in one hand.

“Where--” 

“You are in your room. You have been unconscious for hours.”

I look down and see my bare chest. Combeferre takes my hand and sighs sympathetically. 

“You seem sad. What’s wrong, my brother?”

I close my eyes. “I am afraid that I will die soon,” I say.

“You will not die. I will ensure that.” 

“But Maman--”

“Think of Maman later. Right now you need to rest. I have cleaned your bruises and they do not look very severe. Only a day of rest, I think.”

I lean back on my pillow. Combeferre pulls the sheet over my chest with a gentle hand.

“Sleep now. You will rest tomorrow, and then we will see someone about your bruising and how we can make this safer. There is a man in my Anatomy class who is very intelligent, and most of the way through his doctorate degree. He will be able to check you.”

I sigh.

“Do not be afraid.” My lips are cold. “You will be alright.” I am scared. “I will make sure of that.” I want Taire. I’m scared. 

“Ferre?”

“Yes?”

“Can you stay with me?”

“Of course, Enjolras. I will make sure you can sleep well.”

I take his hand, and we stay there until morning. When I wake, he is gone, but Luna is curled up on my stomach, purring happily. My chest does not look frightfully bad, but I am afraid to go out in front of Grantaire without my wrappings on, and certainly, Combeferre will not allow that.

The door opens, and Combeferre enters, followed by Grantaire. I pull the duvet over myself, and Luna leaps off me angrily. She stalks away as Grantaire sets up a canvas and a palette of paint. 

“What is he…” 

“You’re going to have to sit still today. Why not let my work benefit from a model like you?”

I sigh and adjust my duvet so that my arms are resting on top of it. He smiles at me and starts sketching, the sound of pencil on canvas filling the room.

“You are a lovely model,” he says. “Your hair is so golden.”

I blush slightly. He laughs. His laugh is like bells.

“Are you ill?” He starts mixing paint. “You’re bedridden today.”

“Not ill, just hurt. From yesterday.”

“Mm.” He looks at my face, then at the paint. I look down at my hands. I feel warmth on my face from the window. 

We sit for a while longer, him painting me, me being nervous but staying still. He talks to me about Luna, about his art classes, and about his dreams for after university. He wants to be an artist when he grows up, which I think is a funny way to put it, but he seems completely serious. 

“Enjolras,” he says. “You look distant. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just never done this before. Is it okay that I talk to you, or should I be completely still?”

“No one can be completely still,” he says with a laugh. “I had a model sit in once who would keep trying to make the students laugh, and he would laugh at his own jokes. He was awful.”

We talk of his classes as he puts a few more touches on it. “There.”

“May I see?”

“No! It’s going to be a surprise!” He laughs lightly. “This is special. It’s going to be for another day, so don’t peek.”

I watch as he carefully mounts it back on the easel and lets it dry. “You’re being mean.”

“Oh, my dear Apollo, you will learn soon that this is far from the meanest I can be,” he says jokingly.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. Combeferre and Courfeyrac stop in periodically with books for me. However, once Combeferre sees how badly I cough when I move, I am bedridden for another day. Combeferre and Courfeyrac tend to me, keeping me company when they can.

When I am alone with Combeferre, late in the evening, I muster up the courage to ask. Grantaire has been on my mind all day. I cannot stop thinking about him. 

“Ferre? How did you know you were in love with Courf?”

He looks at me in surprise. “Are you feeling alright?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, I feel fine. I just want to know. What did it feel like?”

“Well… it felt nice. We started talking a lot, and spending time together, and telling each other more and more secrets, and then one day he told me that he was going to be forced to marry a girl he did not love. I asked him why he didn’t love her, and he told me that he was… well, like us. From then on we were much closer.”

I look over towards the painting that Grantaire did of me yesterday. 

“And you… that’s how you realized you were in love with him?”

“Yes. We spent time together before he went away to college, and when I said goodbye to him, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I kissed him.”

“What made you know for sure?”

“Well… I spent time with him more and more. There were moments where we were together that seemed like love. My mother asked me if I was courting someone, and that’s when I knew for sure.”

I look down at my hands. 

“Why are you asking about this, anyway? You’ve met a girl?” He paused. “Or a boy?”

“Not exactly,” I say quietly. My hands press into my legs and I look over to the door. 

“I have to go soon. I have class. Do you think you’ll be alright on your own?”

“Yes,” I say. “I feel good enough that I might be able to have a meeting tonight.” 

“You won’t be allowed to wear your bindings, though. Are you alright with that?”

I look down at my chest. “I think I might just wear a second layer. Or leave on my jacket.”

He nods and leaves me a stack of books. “I’ll see you later. You alright alone? Or should I get Courf for you?”

“I’m fine,” I say. Luna jumps up onto my bed, and I pet her head. After Ferre leaves, I sigh. Luna meows at me loudly.

“Luna, what am I going to do?”

She blinks at me curiously.

“I think I’m falling in love with someone…” I say, picking her up and looking her in the eyes. “Worse still, I think it’s Grantaire.”

I sigh. “I don’t know why I’m in love with him. We’ve barely known each other for a month or so, but he’s just so… I don’t know. I feel like I can trust him. And he’s just so interesting and funny and I feel like myself around him. It seems like I’ve known him forever even though it’s only been a little while.”

Luna looks up at me.

“I don’t know why I’m even telling you this. You can’t do anything to help. You’re a cat, you don’t even understand me.” I pick up a book and start reading, but Luna climbs on top of it and demands my attention.

“You’re a sneaky one,” I say. She purrs happily. I sit with her for a while longer, playing with her and watching her bat at my hand.

Being a cat seems like it would be easier. No stress of school, no Maman yelling at me, no worries. Just playing and sleeping in the sun. 

My musings go on as I read. Luna puts her head on my book, looking up at me like she’s bored of me and my reading.

“Enjolras? How are you doing?”

“I feel fine,” I say, closing my book and setting it aside. Combeferre and Courfeyrac walk in. “How are you? Up for a meeting?”

“Yes, I’m alright with that. No bindings, though,” Ferre says. I sigh and get out of bed, dressing myself in my tighter clothing and getting ready to go. Not wanting to bother with brushing my hair, I just pull it back and tie it away from my face.

When we arrive at the cafe, it smells like coffee, and a few people are already here. Grantaire is talking to two people I don’t recognize. 

When I approach them, R smiles at me. “Our fearless leader,” he says with a chuckle. “Enjolras, this is Bahorel and Feuilly. Feuilly, Bahorel, this is Enjolras. He’s the one who organized this little… group.”

Feuilly smiles at me. He looks tired, and is leaning on Bahorel to stand. I pull up chairs for all four of us and sit with them.

“So you organized this?”

I nod. “Well, me and Combeferre and Courfeyrac. We saw what was happening with the king, and how people are starving in the streets, and I just felt called to do something.”

Feuilly looks at me with a hard-to-read expression. “What makes you think you can do something? You’re a child. How old are you? Seventeen? Eighteen?”

I glare up at him. “I’m twenty-two.” Grantaire stifles a laugh, and I look over at him with a harsh glare. 

Bahorel looks surprised. Feuilly looks down at me with that same expression.

“You’re interesting,” he says. “I think I like you.”

I nod to him. He seems interesting. Bahorel and Feuilly both seem as if they could give me more perspective on my current ideas. That isn’t really something I’m opposed to. Even Grantaire, who constantly doubts the ideas I have, makes me think. I have even noticed some moments where he seems to agree with me. He’s coming around, bit by bit.

Feuilly takes me aside.

“Are you all students here?”

“Yes, we are,” I say.

“I don’t want to seem too confrontational,” he says cautiously. “But you seem to just be a group of young boys who want to seem like you’re for the republic because you’re bored.”

“I’m sorry, you don’t think we really care?”

“I don’t.” He turns around and starts to leave.

I catch his sleeve. “Wait, please,” I say. “I… I have to talk to you about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“I was just a rich boy before,” I say quietly. “But that’s changed. My family… they’ve abandoned me. I have no one left except for Combeferre. I am alone.”

Feuilly’s features soften. “Your family… why did they leave you?”

“It’s a difficult story,” I say. “I have no money, no family, no one else. I’m lost.”

His hand meets mine. “I’m sorry. I’m an orphan, too. I know how it feels.”

I nod to him. “Are you… are you going to join us?”

“I know that you want me to. And I know you truly believe in it. I believe in it, too.” He looks down at me with a smile on his face. “I don’t want you to think I was so easily swayed by that little story… It could well be lies, of course. But you seem like a good man, Enjolras.”

After we rejoin the others and start the meeting, I catch Feuilly’s eye a few times. Once we have said all that must be said, and many of us have dispersed, I speak with him once again.

“I’m sorry for what I thought earlier. It is clear from the way you speak that you are very truly involved with this.”

“I just wish for the world to be equal,” I say simply. “It’s important to me that we all have the chance to become whoever we want to be.”

“That’s a noble goal,” he says. “Are you sure you can achieve it?”

I think for a moment. “Yes. I am.”

_ Chere Diana, _

_ Please do not be alarmed that I am writing to you. Maman has no doubt told you of what happened when she arrived at my and Ferre’s house. If she has, know that it is all wrong. I am not, and never have been, your sister. I am your brother.  _

_ When I come to the winter ball, I will be my true self—looking like a man. Do not be alarmed. I am still dearly loving of you, and I am still me. But a me with another name and another body. _

_ Love forever, _

_ Your dear brother Apollo. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just saying, I don't think it's a coincidence that we all still love Les Mis today.
> 
> Thanks again to the wonderful @valdera for being my beta reader, and as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	13. Jehan Makes A Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is outed by accident in this chapter (to one person)

_ My dear brother, _

_ I suspected as much. Combeferre wrote me a few months ago telling me of your flight away from our home. You are always my brother, and I love you. It doesn’t matter at all whether you’re a man or a woman. _

_ When you come to the winter ball, I will be eager to see your new self. It will be lovely to see you more confident than in a dress. I am certain a tailcoat would suit you much better than a gown, and if you haven’t already given it to someone else or burned it, I would like your royal blue and silver day dress. _

_ Deepest regards, _

_ Diana _

I recover and return to my usual class schedule. Grantaire gives me one of his more recent paintings, one of Luna sleeping, and I have it hung it on the wall above my bed.

My professor of law tells me that he is impressed with my performance. He tells me that I have top marks in my grade, even with the days I missed from being… indisposed. I graciously accept the position he offers me as an assistant at his firm. It’s not much of a job, just reading over papers that have been submitted to him so he can focus on his work, but I’m being paid, and it’s keeping me busy.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac have been spending an inordinate amount of time flirting. In class, at the Cafe, everywhere. It’s been almost annoying, but I can’t be mad at Combeferre for being in love. It isn’t his fault. Being open with his love of men has been near-impossible, but Courfeyrac has made it easier for them. Jehan has often come by with complaints of them making too much noise, and we essentially switch roommates for a time. 

This particular evening is one of those roommate-switch days. Jehan allowed them to have the apartment to themselves, as it’s their anniversary, so now we’re sitting together doing coursework with Grantaire.

“So, Enjolras,” Jehan says, lounging on the couch in their stockings and a nightdress. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“W-what?”

“Are you seeing anyone? You know, romantically? Any special girls in your life?”

I blush. My eyes flicker over to Grantaire, who’s also looking at me. Jehan gasps, hands flying to their mouth.

“Oh. Oh!” They look from me to him to me again and let out a noise that is something close to inhuman.

“Jehan, don’t misunderstand.”

“What is there to misunderstand?” They’re pacing around the room in their excitement. “You two-- I can’t believe it! Really? Oh my goodness, Marius and Cosette and everyone just have to know, have you told them? And are you two really together?”

“We’re not together!” My voice is high. It bursts out of me, and I have no time to change my voice as I normally do.

Jehan and Grantaire both look at me, surprised. I feel heat spreading over my face. I cough to compose myself and speak again in a lower voice. “Sorry. I said, we’re not together.”

“Your voice just now--”

“Don’t.”

“But it sounded so--”

“I said don’t.” I hate my voice. I really, really hate my voice. Jehan looks uncomfortable and Grantaire… well, Grantaire mostly just seems confused.

“Let’s just go to the tavern and get dinner.”

I let Grantaire out before us. Jehan lags behind with me and puts a hand on my shoulder gently.

“Enjolras, you don’t have to disguise your voice around us.” They smile at me. “I don’t disguise mine, after all, and people still call me by my correct name. And you aren’t even like me!”

“I know, Jehan. I just don’t like my voice.”

“I don’t like mine either,” they say, sighing. “But it’s okay.”

We leave and go to the tavern, ordering dinner and drinks. Jehan is dressed in male clothing, and their hair is in a long braid over one shoulder. They still look absolutely beautiful, though, even in their most masculine attire. They even still look like a woman, at least to me.

Grantaire gets drunk almost immediately, which surprises no one. When he drinks, his face goes red, and he gets much more easily excited when drunk. After a few glasses of wine, he’s flirting with everyone there, guys and girls alike. Mostly, though, he’s flirting with Jehan loudly. My eyes dart from person to person. People are looking at us. I don’t want people to look at me.

I watch as he staggers back to me, a wide smile on his face. Everyone is watching us. I hate how everyone has their eyes on me— I feel like they can see right through me.

“Are you a Greek god?"

“Oh god, this had better not be your attempt at flirting like I imagine it’ll be.”

“No, I really do want to know. Are you? Are you actually Aphrodite?”

I go red and hide my face in my hands. “Grantaire, you’re just humiliating yourself.”

“I am not humiliating myself,” he says in an offended tone. “I'm just having fun. Or have you never heard of that?”

“I know what fun is, Grantaire,” I snap, glaring at him angrily.

“Oh, do you now? What’s fun, then, o great Master Enjolras?”

“Reading. Studying. Being here.” I can tell I’m not convincing him. “Watching you paint. Coming to the Cafe with Marius and Cosette. Going with Combeferre to the library. I don’t know. Lots of things are fun.”

“You’re so boring,” he drawls. “Have you never done anything sinful in your entire life?”

“I have, as a matter of fact.”

“Enjolras, you need to get out. Honestly. I would prefer you go out and drink and visit brothels and be the worst sinner I’ve ever met, rather than be this absolutely bloody boring.”

“Grantaire, stop it,” Jehan says.

He sighs loudly. “Fine.”

“He shouldn’t be drinking this much,” I whisper to Jehan. 

“Taire, maybe let’s go home…”

“Fine. It’s not like I even care.”

He leans on Jehan and stumbles toward me, putting his arms around me. His face is red, and his lips are twisted into a drunken smile. I step back, but he steps even closer to me. I can feel my face going red as well.

“You’re pretty when you’re blushing,” he says, running his hands over my hair. “You’re always pretty, though.”

“Grantaire, you’re not yourself right now. Please let go of me.”

“Kiss me, Apollo.” He pulls my face even closer to his, still smiling at me.

“Grantaire, please, I know you’re not like this.”

He looks at me longingly. I brace myself and push myself away from him, extracting myself from his grasp. I leave the tavern quickly, not even saying goodbye to Jehan, and begin the long walk back to the apartment.

I want to be happy. I want to feel good that Grantaire loves me. But I don’t. The way he acted was really frightening. It wasn’t right. That wasn’t Grantaire.

I unlock the door, step inside the apartment, and lock it behind me. My thoughts are full of him. I shake my head, and take out the papers I’m meant to grade. The repetitive correction of small grammar mistakes soothes me. It’s nice to feel in control again, not like I did in the tavern with Jehan and Grantaire.

Hours later- it must be hours, I’ve finished with the papers by that time- I hear the door open. Grantaire is on Jehan’s shoulder, and looks an absolute mess. He almost looks like he’s crying.

“I shouldn’t have done it…” he says. “I messed up so bad, Jehan.”

“It’s okay, Taire. You’re okay.”

“No, I really messed up,” he says. “He’s totally gonna hate me now. He has to. He must.”

“He’s not going to hate you,” Jehan says with a sigh.

“He is, though… I shouldn’t have done something like that."

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have,” I say coldly from my corner. 

“Apollo?”

“Yes."

“Oh god, Apollo, I’m so sorry,” he wails, walking over to me and putting his arms around me. I stiffen, but soon relax when I realize he’s not going to hurt me. He mumbles apologies in my ear, essentially holding me there as he curled up against me.

“It’s… it’s fine,” I say, putting my hand on his back gently. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes I do,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

He holds me tightly, crying onto my shoulder.

“Grantaire, I promise it’s alright,” I say, trying to soothe him. He sniffled, wiped his eyes, and sat upright again. 

“R-really?”

“It’s fine, I promise.”

“But… I flirted with you. I tried to kiss you. That’s not okay.”

“I promise, I don’t mind.” 

Grantaire’s hands tangled in my hair. I hold him close to me and gently touch his face, running my fingers down his cheek.

“You’re… you’re not mad?”

“I’m-- well, I can’t say I’m too happy. It wasn’t my finest moment when I pushed myself out of your arms, though.”

“You had every right to. I was an ass.” He puts a hand on my lips. “Don’t protest. I was an ass, I really was. How can I make it up to you?”

“You don’t have to. I don’t want you to be upset over this.”

“Making up is lovely, but it’s rather late,” Jehan says. “Why don’t we just go to bed? May I stay over tonight?”

I nod. “I’m going to get ready for bed, okay?”

Grantaire retires to his room, apologizing all the way. I go into my room and close the door gently behind me. I untie my hair and shake it out before removing my waistcoat and my shirt, washing my face and body with the cloth in the basin. As I’m almost done, I hear the door handle click, and I panic, looking for something to cover myself with. Nothing close enough to get to before whoever it is enters. I just sit there, hoping it’s Combeferre or Courfeyrac and not Grantaire. 

“Enjolras? Do you have a nightshirt I could— oh.” They stand there in the doorway, staring at me. Cautiously, they approach me, looking worried.

“Are you hurt? Why do you have bandages on your chest?”   


“They’re not bandages,” I reply quietly. Jehan crouches down beside me and puts a hand on my chest. I flinch. An expression of realization crosses their face.

“Enjolras…”

“Yes.” I pause, unable to speak for a long moment. “I’m…”

“You  _ are  _ like me,” they whisper in wonderment. “I had no idea.”

“Do not tell anyone,” I say quickly.

“This is why you were so ashamed of your voice. And why you always seem so guarded when someone touches your chest. And— is this why you never speak of your family?”

My hand goes to their lips to keep them silent. They nod, as if they know exactly what’s going through my head. After a moment of hesitation, they put their arms around me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

They leave once I’ve found them a suitable nightshirt, and I return to getting ready for bed. Staring out at the wall, I think of Jehan. They found out. They know. If anyone was to find out, I suppose Jehan is the best option, since they, too, know what it is like. Still, I find it incredibly difficult to fall asleep.

_ Ma chere Diana, _

_ I love you more than I can say. Yes, of course you may have my day dress. I truly believe that you are my savior. You and I must speak soon, if we may. How does the seventeenth sound? At the Cafe Musain near my apartment? _

_ Love always, _

_ Apollo _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to valdera for betaing, and as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	14. Diana

_ My Apollo, _

_ I will be in Paris as you have appointed me. Please, please bring the day dress! I am very excited for this appointment with you. I am so excited to see you as a man! It will certainly suit you better than womanhood ever did. _

_ Love as well, _

_ Diana _

I sit at the cafe with Combeferre. He’s been stirring at, but not drinking his tea for the past hour, and he has such a murderously bored expression on his face that I honestly think he’ll smash the cup.

“Why did you bring me here anyway?”

“Ferre, you know as well as I that Diana will not recognize me like this.”

“I could recognize your stupid face from a league away,” a familiar voice says. I look up to see Diana over me, blue eyes sparkling in the light. “Hello, brother.”

I jump up, causing Combeferre’s tea to splash out of the cup a little, and wrap my arms around her with such force that I knock her back a bit. She laughs and puts her arms around me as well, leaning her head on my shoulder.

“I’m so glad to see you, Apollo,” she says. She steps back, holding me at arm’s length, and looks me up and down. After a moment, she nods.

“Yes. You are definitely better suited to being a man.”

Combeferre laughs. “I know.”

“I’m flattered, Diana,” I say, looking at her as well. “You look well also. You’re growing up into a fine young lady.”

She reddens. “Thank you, Apollo.”

“It’s true,” I say, and it is. She’s grown quite a bit taller in the two months or so that I’ve been away, and her hair has grown even darker. When she was young, we were both blondes, but as she’s grown older, her hair has darkened to a near-black.

“If you two are quite done with your reunion,” Combeferre says, adjusting his glasses angrily. “May we please go to the meeting now?”

“Meeting?”

“Ferre, I’m bringing her along.”

“Why? How can she--”

“Diana is here. She is already at the cafe. Why don’t we bring her?”

“What meeting, Art--” Her hands go to her mouth. “Apollo. What meeting?”

“We’ve started a small organization. It’s only me, Ferre, Courfeyrac, and a few others. You’ll like them, I think. Especially Jehan.”

“Well, don’t keep your sister waiting! Show me, show me!”

I lead her inside, showing her the Cafe. We reserved the cafe for our meeting today, and I hear a chorus of “Hi”s when I walk inside. Sitting alone at one table is R, who brightens when he sees me. Jehan is sitting with Courfeyrac and Cosette, and they each have several empty coffee cups around them. Bossuet, Musichetta, and Joly showed up too, and they’re discussing something quietly in a corner.

“Alright, everyone,” I say, standing in the middle of the room. I clap my hands together once, and attention turns to me. “Before we begin, I would like to introduce you to my little sister.”

Diana steps up next to me with a small wave. Joly looks at her with a slightly analytical eye. Everyone seems to be sizing her up.

“This is Diana.” She smiles slightly awkwardly. 

“Hello,” she says, evidently trying to be cheery. “I’m his sister.”

“Yes, we’d noticed,” Joly says in an acidic tone. “Why is she here?”

“I’m interested in it. Politics, I mean.” She looks at me. “You left your books when you departed from home. I was curious and could not stop myself from reading them, and I have not the opportunity to discuss them with anyone at home. As I am a woman, none will speak with me in the cafes or in society circles. I have never had the opportunity to speak about this.”

“What are your opinions, then?” Courfeyrac asks cautiously.

“I’m not a Royal supporter,” she says. “I support the Republic. However, your talk of revolution leaves me a bit… skeptical.” Grantaire perked up at this.

“She’ll fit right in,” he remarks with a grin. Diana looks relieved, and sits at the table with Grantaire. They immediately start up a debate about whether the Revolution is a good idea, and they seem completely engrossed in it. I breathe a sigh of relief. 

Joly approaches me. “Master Enjolras--”

“Just Enjolras, please.”

“Very well. Enjolras, why have you brought a  _ lady _ into our midst?”

“In case you were unaware, Cosette and Musichetta are--”

“No, that isn’t what I mean. I don’t mean a woman, I mean a  _ lady. _ She’s proper. Look at her dress, it’s all fancy.”

I look at her dress. I realize, with a slight pang, that it was once mine. He’s right, it is fancy, and stands out among the common wear of those in the cafe. Even Cosette, whose father is a mayor, is less well-dressed than she. 

“If she is a lady, then I must be a gentleman, must I not?”

“Well, yes, but you--”

“Exactly. Breeding does not determine who you are.” I say this last part slightly too loud, and Grantaire and Combeferre look at me. The look on Combeferre’s face does not bode well. After a moment, I realize what he must think I’ve said.

“Just because my family is of high breeding does not make me any less receptive to the revolution. I am a citizen, as you are.”

Combeferre lets out a sigh of relief.

“Well said, Enjolras,” Grantaire says with a sigh. 

We continue the meeting, as we have for weeks now. There are more of us now, some men who stop in during the meetings. Bahorel and Feuilly are two regulars who Grantaire has grown particularly close with.

As we end the meeting, it has grown quite late. Diana looks at me proudly after I give my closing speech. 

“You do suit manhood well,” she says, quietly enough that no one else hears. 

“Where shall she stay?” Grantaire asks. “We have only three beds.”

“We could have her stay in my room,” I say. “She will be comfortable there.”

“Then where will you sleep?” 

“I can stay watch tonight. No need for sleep, I am alright.”

“Nonsense,” Grantaire says. “Stay with me. My bed is large enough for the both of us. Letting her stay is enough generosity, you need not watch vigil all night.”

“Stay? In your bed?”

“Of course,” he says. “Why would we not? Combeferre, I am certain, would not take well to sharing a bed with you. Both of you are too lanky to fit in one bed, and Ferre’s is smaller than mine anyway. I, however, am just the right size to fit with Enjolras.”

I nod, hiding my blush behind a book. 

“Then we shall return home. Are we alright to leave the cafe in this state?”

“Yes. I either give money to the girls who work the cafe or I come early in the morning to help with the cleanup.”

“That’s kind of you,” Diana says. “That was never how I saw you.”

“What do you mean, that was never how you saw me?”

“Well, it just wasn’t.” She looks slightly embarrassed at this. “You were always so closed off and mean. Never kind to me or Mother or Father. Just… quiet. Lost.”

I look at her. She’s smiling apologetically. 

“You really saw me that way?”

“Better you hear this from me than from Eponine. She saw naught but a monster.”

“A monster?” My own voice echoes in my head.  _ Ferre, I am a monster _ . “Even dear ’Ponine thought me a monster?”

“Enjolras, are you alright?”

I look to Combeferre, and feel something slide down my cheek. A tear. I am crying. His expression is one of deep concern.

“Yes. I am quite alright. Just… recalling old memories,” I say. 

This does not seem to assuage him. He steps closer to me and puts a hand on my back gently. We walk in this manner until we return home.

_ Mama and Papa, _

_ I have gone to see Artemis in the hope that she will relent. Please do not worry about me. I will send report once I reach her. I know that stealing away by night like this is improper, but I had no choice, as you would not let me see her.  _

_ Goodbye until I return. _

_ Diana _

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Thanks again to @valdera for beta reading, and as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	15. Diana Stays

_ Diana, _

_ Return home at once. You will not go to see Artemis. She is wild and a bad influence on you. If you let her infect you with whatever sinful practices city girls partake in, know that we will not tolerate those here at home. _

_ This is your first and last warning. If you have not returned in a day’s time after receiving this letter, there will be consequences. _

_ Maman. _

“Here we are,” Combeferre says. “Home sweet home.”

I immediately take off my overcoat. It’s so nice and warm in here, and the cold December weather makes it seem even warmer. Diana looks around for a while, curious to see what’s in my home.

“Oh! This is lovely!”

I look to where she is. She found Grantaire’s painting of me, which is hidden under a sheet in one corner of my room. Or, at least, it was. Now it’s been propped up against the wall in full view. Now that I look at it again, I appear to be giving Grantaire an extremely flirtatious look. It makes me uncomfortable.

“You had a portrait done? It’s beautiful! Who did it?”

“Grantaire did,” I say, pointing to the R in the corner. This time it’s small, done in a deep red, and doesn’t draw your eye like the one on Courfeyrac’s portrait did.

“You paint, Grantaire?”

“I do,” he says. “A bit.”

“I have heard that Mother wants to get a new portrait of me done for the sitting room,” Diana says. “If I paid you to do one, that would be a lovely birthday gift for her.”

“Speaking of gifts,” I say, standing and going to my wardrobe. “I know it’s quite late, but happy birthday.” 

“Oh, Apollo, the dress!” She holds it reverently. “May I put it on now?”

“We were about to go to bed, Diana,” I say with a laugh. “Perhaps wait until tomorrow before you put it on. You can wear it all day then.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Do you have anything that I can wear to bed? I did not think to bring a valise.”

“Yes. Just a moment, you can wear one of my nightshirts.” I dig through my wardrobe until I find it, and I give it to her quickly. “You can ready yourself for bed in here. I will make sure it is private.”

“Always so considerate,” she teases. “Very well. Good night, all.” She ushers us out and closes the door.

Immediately, Grantaire sighs. “She is very like you,” he says. “I was barely her match during our discussion. Quite smart, that one. She seems to take after her brother more than anyone else, from what little you have told me of your family.”

I smile. “She and I are more alike than you would realize. When we were young, we almost looked identical. She used to be a blonde, do you know? Hair just the same as mine.” 

“If there had been two of you, I do not know how I would live,” Combeferre says. “I have already suffered long enough with one Apollo at my side, if there had been a second, I do believe I would have been talked to death.”

I let out a laugh at this. Grantaire looks surprised. 

“I was unaware the great Apollo was capable of laughter,” he says with a grin. “This is a rare day, Ferre. Take down a note of the exact hour at which we have heard Enjolras, our fearless leader, laugh!”

“Oh, stop it, you,” I say, swatting at his arm. 

“Make me.” He smiles at me, daring me to do something. I put my hand over his mouth and smirk. After about ten seconds, I pull my hand back.

“R, did you kiss me?!”

“So what if I did?” His eyes are mischievous, and I know he’s in a wild mood. He gets this way sometimes, and I cannot stop him. Waiting it out is the only way to stop it. 

I just sigh, shake my head, and begin getting ready for bed. I use the washroom to change, leaving my bindings on and returning to the room as Grantaire is changing. 

He’s halfway through changing, his shirt open, and when he notices me he covers himself up. I sigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were here,” he says.

“No, no, it’s alright.” I move the shirt away from him. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You have no reason to be ashamed.”

He looks at himself, then looks back at me, an eyebrow raised. “You seriously believe that?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Look at me,” he says, gesturing to himself. “I’m not attractive. I’m not handsome like you.”

I look at him, but nothing seems to register. Sure, he isn’t thin. Sure, he doesn’t look like me. But I am not ideal. He doesn’t have to be nervous about anything at all.

“You are handsome,” I say. “Of course you are.”

He looks at me in disbelief. “You think I’m handsome?”

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“No one else does.” He seems to really believe that. I put my hands on his shirt collar, pulling it away from his shoulders and off his body. I look at him for confirmation. He nods.

“Grantaire--”

“Michel.”

“What?”

“My first name.” He sighs. “I don’t go by that very often. But it’s Michel.”

“Michel, your body is fine. I know that not everyone loves their body-- trust me, I know that, I don’t like mine at all. But I promise. You are fine. Your body is alright.”

He sighs. “You realize that this won’t fix my issues with my body?”

“I know that. Just telling me that my body is alright wouldn’t fix my issues either. But I don’t want you to think that I don’t like your body.”

“Alright, Apollo,” he says, smiling at me. “Perhaps we can put a pin in this conversation about how much you love my body until the morning?”

I go red. “Yes. That would be lovely.”

“Then, to bed with us,” he says, climbing into bed. I smile at him.

“Good night, Michel,” I say quietly. “I’m just going to… sleep on the couch, I think.”

“Well. Good night,” Combeferre says. 

“Good night, Ferre.”

The room goes dark, and I walk to the sitting room. It’s cold and lonely in here. I look out at the city below through the window behind me. The moon shines down on the Seine, and I watch the river flow below the bridge and the lamps still lit shining on the street.

“Apollo?”

I glance behind me. Diana is standing in the doorway.

“Oh. You startled me.” She walks over to me and sits down beside me. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I couldn’t,” she says. “I kept thinking about our maman. She’s so awful to you, Apollo, you can’t even understand. I hear her talking about you all the time, and how she talks about you is so horrific.”

“Do you want to go back?” I ask quickly.

“What?”

“Do you want to go back to her home?”

“No, I… I don’t.”

“Then don’t. You don’t need to stay with her. You’re not obligated to live with her anymore.”

She stares at me worriedly. “You really believe that?”

“I do.”

Diana throws her arms around me. “Thank you, Apollo. Thank you so much.” 

_ Maman, _

_ I have decided not to return home to you. I will stay here with my brother Apollo, rent a room, and live away from you for a time. Perhaps spending time away from home will help me adapt to the culture of Paris. You could also use some time adapting to modern culture.  _

_ Love from your only daughter, _

_ Diana. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Thanks to valdera for beta-reading, and, as always, comments and kudos are extremely appreciated.


	16. Many Things Revealed

_ Artemis _

_ Do not reply to this letter. You will receive your formal invitations to our holiday ball soon. I expect you to be there in proper attire for the occasion. I hope you know what I mean. _

_ Maman. _

“Fantine, please,” I cry out, my back arching.

“Master Enjolras, if you want me to fit you properly, I will need to tighten this.” She releases the large piece of cloth wrapped around me, and I sigh, collapsing forward.

Fantine walks around to the front, tape measure around her neck. She straightens my back, then measures around my ribcage just above the bottom of my ribs. She continues measuring my chest for a while, then frowns.

“Your bosom is not so large as all that. Why do you wear these?”

I glance at my bindings. “I need to be perceived as a man. It is easier to be perceived as a man if I wear them.”

She nods hesitantly, then walks into the back room of her shop. When she returns, her hands are full with clothing. 

“The new fashion has a more puffed tailcoat front. I made the front tighter than is fashionable so that you do not have to wear any bindings beneath it. Oh, and the waistcoat is slightly tighter and stiffer than a typical design, so that it will press you down further.”

I pick it up and run my hands over the charcoal-grey tailcoat. It’s soft, well-made, and it’s my first real piece of mens’ clothing. Well, my first piece that I own. Everything is handed down from Combeferre or Courfeyrac, and it barely fits me. 

“I’ve finished,” Grantaire says from the changing area. “Um… shall I come out now?”

“Yes, of course,” Fantine replies with a smile.

“I’m nervous."

“You have nothing to be nervous about,” I say. “Come on, please show us!”

“Um, okay.”

Grantaire comes in wearing a beautifully tailored suit. The jacket is a deep evergreen, the trousers are pale beige, and he’s wearing a silk cravat. He seems a bit nervous, and keeps pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves.

“You look good,” I say. Very eloquent. I mentally kick myself. “Very good.” 

“Thank you,” he says with a hesitant smile. “You do too.”

“I’m just in my usual day wear,” I say, looking down at myself. Nothing is different about my body right now than my usual clothing. Nothing except--

“Excuse me.”

I rush into the dressing room, collapsing against the door. Oh god. I wasn’t wearing them. He saw me without them on. Is that what he was commenting on? Did he notice? Does he think I’m a girl now?

I put my head in my hands, a groan escaping me as I think about what I’ve done. Grantaire knocks on the door.

“Are you alright? You left in a hurry.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Grantaire, would you give us a moment alone? I wish to change, please. Show you what I look like in the formal wear.”

“Yes, of course,” he says. “I will wait here.”

“Fantine, please bring in my clothing. All of it. You know what I refer to.”

After a moment, Fantine opened the door, the formal wear in her arms. I turned my back to her, stripped off my shirt, and took the bindings from her.

“Can you help me put these on?” I ask in a low voice. She nods and helps me wrap my chest, fastening it somewhat loosely in the back. I continue dressing myself and manage to put on everything needed without help. Fantine looks me up and down once, then starts fussing with my hair. I put my head down to let her work on it.

“There. You look much better now.” I nod, feeling my curls bounce around my face. She opens the door and exits.

“Enjolras, are you going to come out now?”

In response, I open the door. The formal wear is much more comfortable than what I’m used to wearing. It’s tight, but almost comfortingly so, and it fits me properly, which is more than I can say for any of Combeferre’s handed-down tailcoats.

Grantaire gasps. “What you typically wear is not flattering enough on you. I never thought you were so… thin.”

I smile nervously, excited to feel masculine but scared to hear what they think.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says. “My God, I never thought that formal wear would suit you this well. It merely sits on me, but this enhances you. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to look better  _ wearing _ clothes.”

I go red at this. The smile on his face makes me slightly nervous. Why does he look at me as if I’m so… good? I am human as he is.

“Alright, you two, go change. You first, Enjolras.” 

Once we’re back in our usual clothes, we walk to the apartment. Combeferre is there, reading his medical textbook. I walk over to him and put my hands over the pages.

“We are on winter holiday. Why are you studying?”

He looks up at me. “I am still studying to be a doctor, even when I am not at school.”

Grantaire sighs. “I am lucky to be an art student,” he says melodramatically. “If I were pursuing an academic dream, I would likely be worked to the bone.”

“Oh, quiet, you.” Combeferre closes his book. “Though I am ready for a break. Why don’t we stop for a little while?”

“Oh thank god. I thought you would never stop reading.”

He ignores Grantaire and tucks the book back into the bookshelf. I put my coat on. “Want to go to the Musain?”

“Yes, certainly,” he says. “I see Grantaire’s excited, too.”

He smiles up at Combeferre. “I am.”

As we continue to the cafe, Grantaire’s hand finds mine. I hold on tightly, and he looks down at me with a small smile on his face. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

“It’s your parents’ party that we’re going to, right?” He tilts his head. “How will they react to seeing you?”

“I’m not sure…” I’m really not. What will my mother think when she sees me? My body shape, my hair, and everything about me… I’m vastly different than the shy, slim girl that she would remember.

“Well, no matter. I will make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

Grantaire rubs my back gently. It’s difficult not to love him when he’s so kind to me. I’ve been thinking about him, about my relationship with him. I was hoping that these feelings would go away, but they seem to be here to stay.

Is this love? I have thought often upon the subject, but never quite found it before. It seems to be just out of reach for me. The front I present at the cafe and at school reveals no emotion. I cannot risk being seen as weak, or worse, womanly. What little emotion I show is confined to righteous fury about the cause, which I freely admit makes up a good part of my emotions, but I do not only feel anger. I think I am capable of love as well.

When we enter, the cafe is bustling. The woman who helped me before is bussing tables, and when she notices us, she smiles and leads us to a table.

“They’ll each have a tea, and give me my usual,” he says.

“Mulled wine as usual,” she says with a smirk. “I’m starting to think you never stop drinking.”

“Well, he’s stopping tonight,” Combeferre says, giving him a glare. “Get him a coffee. No wine for you.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t press the subject. “Now. Let us talk. Enjolras, what are we to do about the party? Your parents, I am sure, will try to set you up with that marriage you left behind.”

Combeferre and I exchange a look. “Grantaire, there is something we must tell you.”

He looks from me to Ferre back to me confusedly. I take Ferre’s hand meaningfully. His face goes white. “You mean--”

“No, no, that is not what I meant at all!”

“We… were married,” Combeferre says. “His parents did not see him as himself, but rather… Are you familiar with the story of Caeneus?”

Grantaire’s hands fly to his mouth. “You mean that Enjolras… of course. I am not unfamiliar with such a condition. I have met those in similar situations.” He coughs uncomfortably. “This certainly explains quite a bit.”

“I had hoped to hide this from you forever, but that is just not practical anymore. Now that we are more… intimate… I knew I had to tell you.”

“This is… that is why Cosette was in your apartment that day. And why you were so embarrassed about your body. And-- oh my God, was that why you were so upset by your voice getting higher?”

I nod. “I am sorry that I did not tell you, but--”

“No, Apollo. Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. It was always your decision whether or not to tell anyone about your… situation.”

“I fear that I may have to tell the rest of our group soon. I just don’t want them to… If they are to come with me to my mother’s house, they will see me as she sees me. I never want to have anyone see me that way again.” 

Grantaire nods solemnly. “If it is any consolation, I don’t see you that way at all. You have never been anything but a man to me.”

I smile and take his hand. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

Combeferre looks from me to him. I can see the wheels turning in his head. After a moment, he pulls the rings from out of his pocket. I’d almost forgotten about them. He slides them across the table, one landing in front of me and one landing in front of Grantaire. I feel my face heating up once again. 

“Were those your rings?”

I nod, unable to speak. He picks one up and slides it onto his finger. It fits him perfectly. 

“They are lovely,” he says, smiling at me. 

As the night drags on, Combeferre makes plans. We try to figure out what to do about my mother, and about my friends, and we come up short. Nothing seems to be quite right. Eventually, we just give up, and return to casual conversation.

As we return home at the end of the night, I look around at the people passing us. Grantaire is right beside me, and he takes my hand. 

“It’s alright, Enjolras. I’ll be here. No matter what your mother says or does, I’ll be right here with you.” He looks at me. “Um, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac too. Everyone. I’m sure they won’t mind one bit.”

I look at him gratefully. 

“I will never leave your side, Enjolras.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Thanks to valdera, my beta reader, and once again, comments and kudos are very much appreciated.


	17. Two Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be one of two chapters released today. This chapter ended up really short, so I'm going to release a second one right after this one.

I stand in front of everyone, hands trembling. My only solace is Grantaire sitting in the front row, still wearing the ring that Combeferre gave him.

“Hello, everyone,” I say. It comes out wrong. I cough and try again. “Hello.”

Feuilly looks at me confusedly. Honestly, everyone is looking at me confusedly. I’d be confused, too, if the leader of your organization called you to a meeting and sat you all down in front of him for a big speech.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m standing in front of you like this.”

Courfeyrac sighs and gets up to get a bottle of wine. I look at him desperately, hoping he’ll stay. He’s so important to me, and he’s leaving. 

“So, if you remember, I invited you all to my family’s holiday party earlier this year,” I say, trying to project my voice as hard as I can. “There’s a small problem with that.”

“Go on,” Grantaire says, nodding. “I believe in you.”

“My family never… knew me. They weren’t seeing the person I was underneath everything they made me be.” Metaphors have never been my strong suit, and I try to make sense as well as be as subtle as I can.

“They tried to make me someone I was not. They were always so insistent that I was a different person, and I could never live up to their expectations.” I watch Jehan in the back row nodding along, their face an open book. Tears are in their eyes as I speak. “I do not expect you to understand what I am. I do not fully understand either. Ferre and I, we’ve done what we can to make my experience easier, but I don’t believe that it’ll ever be easier for people like me.”

“What do you mean, people like you?” Joly asks. “I don’t understand.”

I look helplessly around. I don’t know how to explain it. Jehan stands up and walks over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“He is like me… not exactly, but almost. You are all familiar with my situation, yes? How I am neither male nor female, but instead lie somewhere between the two?”

They put a hand on my shoulder gently. 

“Enjolras… He was not born Apollo. He was born as a woman.”

I stand there, expecting gasps. Instead, I get Courfeyrac downing a whole bottle of wine in one gulp and sighing. “Yeah. So?”

I look at them. Some seem surprised, but no bad reactions from the whole group. They seem… proud. Feuilly looks like he’s about to cry. Joly seems worried, but that’s usual. Bossuet looks a bit confused, but no one in the group has reacted violently. No screaming, no one leaving in a rush, no one asking intrusive questions. 

_ They love me. They actually care about me.  _ I burst into tears. 

This, finally, elicits a reaction from the group. Feuilly and Grantaire rush over to me, and Jehan puts their arms around me tightly. “Hey, are you okay?”

“You didn’t leave,” I sob, a smile on my face. “You didn’t run away.”

“Of course not, Apollo,” Courfeyrac says. “Why would we run away?”

“I just… it’s strange. I am… I don’t know, I’m wrong. This is not how it’s supposed to be. I have never known why this is how I feel, but it is. I must be mad…”

“You are not insane,” Jehan chides. “I am not, and therefore you are not.”

The worries I’ve had for years are bubbling up inside me, and I look at Jehan nervously. “But… I’m so strange. This seems like insanity.”

“You never told me about these worries,” Combeferre says worriedly. He looks at me and I can tell this is not the last time he will talk to me about this.

“What of your parents?” Bossuet asks. “They do not know, do they?”

“No, they don’t,” I say. “I don’t think they’ll be happy with it at all. After all, I’m very different now from what I was back then.”

“And it’s not possible at all to somehow trick them? Make them believe that you are still your old self?”

“No,” I say with a laugh. “I look much, much too different. They would never believe it was me.”

An idea comes to me quickly. “Ferre. What about Diana?”

“You mean, go with her? As her guests?”

I nod. “They would never believe it was me, but they might believe I am someone else. And she’s been here for long enough that it’s plausible that she’s made friends… Maybe with Cosette, Musichetta, and Jehan… And we could go that way.”

I look to Diana, who is sitting in the corner reading.”Diana. Would you… be willing to have us come with you?”

“Of course,” she says with a smile. “I would be happy to.”

Our discussion moves on at last, breaking into smaller groups of conversation about the ball, what this discovery about me means, and other discussions that I can’t make out. Jehan sits next to Diana and starts talking excitedly about their dress for the ball. 

“And, look, I’ve so many plans for my hair as well! Since your family knows nothing of me, I can be feminine— female, even!— in front of them.” 

She looks at Jehan happily.

All of a sudden, the door bursts open, and Combeferre bursts in, a terrified look on his face.

“I hate to interrupt this, but… I’ve just gotten word that the general is dead.” He takes a moment to breathe. “It is time.”

The cafe falls silent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you're glad I'm releasing another chapter, haha. I'd like to thank my new beta @vivelapluto for betaing for me. And, as always, kudos and comments are always appreciated greatly!


	18. The Barricades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning-- this is my second chapter today! Don't just read without reading 17 too!

The next few days pass in a whirlwind. I do not leave the cafe for whole days at a time. Combeferre stays with me, as we collect ammunition and furniture to barricade the streets. It is not pleasant work, picking out places that people may well die, but it must be done. On occasion, Grantaire stops in with Gavroche, bringing news from the other organizations that are fighting with us. Ours will not be the only barricade that rises tomorrow.

Courfeyrac stops in, carrying a bottle of wine and some fresh bread. I sigh and drop my pencil, staring up at the ceiling. 

“How long have you been mapping this out for?”

“I don’t remember,” I say. “There is no clock here in the dark.”

“In any case, stop and take a break. You seem like you have not slept in days.”

“I haven’t,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. 

He pulls up a chair and sits beside me. “Everyone is ready for tomorrow. I even have found one more to join our numbers. You remember my roommate?”

“Your roommate who does not support our cause and thinks that Napoleon was correct? Yes, I remember him. Forgive me if I do not jump out of my chair in excitement upon hearing that he will be on the barricade with us.”

“He… seems to have a deathwish. I would not judge a man for joining us, even if he is only there to die.”

“No one will die,” I say resolutely, my voice hollow. “I swear it.”

Courfeyrac reaches for my hand and turns my face towards his. “You should get some rest, Apollo. You cannot lead a revolution when you are deprived of sleep.”

I nod and go to the makeshift cots we’ve set up behind the bar. Courfeyrac sits down beside me, having found a blanket somewhere in the cafe. He drapes it gently over me, laying down beside me as well. I look at him confusedly.

“Someone has to make sure you’re actually sleeping,” he says with that annoying smirk that he wears so often. “I don’t want you to stop getting rest, especially when it’s almost time. So sleep. You need it.”

I sigh and close my eyes, letting him rest beside me. The silence is occasionally punctuated by a strange remark of his or some noise causing him to shift, but otherwise, all is still. I find myself on the edge of drifting off in no time at all.

When I wake, Courfeyrac has moved every table and chair out to the barricade already. Everyone else is already huddled behind it, as more furniture is piled high. Our numbers have swelled to at least a hundred, and word from Gavroche says that the other barricades are already manned as well with numbers even larger than our own. My heart rises. This might actually work. We might actually win.

I look to the streets. Out of the windows, I see red flags flying, hear cries of “Revolution”. People are throwing down furniture from their homes. The National Guard will never succeed when we have this many on our side. 

_ No. _ I shake my head.  _ I cannot think like that yet. We have not yet won. _

Grantaire approaches me. “Congratulations. A successful convert.”

“Do you mean yourself or the city of Paris?” I ask with a smirk.

“Both. Look out there, Apollo. Look. They are awake, they are fighting with us! You are on your way to victory. The people have stirred.”

As I gaze out upon the chanting crowds, the quickly rising barricades, I cannot help but smile. It truly does seem that we have won.

“The Guard! Coming our way!” 

My joy is shot down in a moment. I hear bullets tear through the flags, and shutters are closed as quickly as they were opened. Frantically I turn to Combeferre. He tosses me a gun with a solemn look in his eyes.

I have no time to hesitate. I scale the sides of the barricade as quickly as I can, barely leaving a moment to breathe. Moments behind me is Grantaire, a hand on my back to support me as I climb. 

Sure enough, the Guard approaches. My heart practically stops when I see them. Others join me on the barricade, guns in hand. The air is still. 

“Surrender and we will spare your lives!” 

“Never!” I scream back down, and steady myself against the pile of furniture beside me. I ready my gun and shoot.

My first shot seems to send a sign. I hear explosions echo across the city, and those beside me start firing down into the squadron below us. The air grows thick with gunpowder and smoke, and someone yells “Retreat!” from the crowd of soldiers down below.

They move away. I see someone jump down to the front of the barricade and examine the bodies of the soldiers below. 

“All dead,” she says. A cheer goes up around me. 

I climb back down. Someone shouts that more soldiers are coming, and I climb down once again to fight once again. More soldiers, sure enough. Sick of guns, I fight hand-to-hand. My time in Paris has strengthened me, and I can throw a sure enough punch, but it doesn’t stop a soldier from grabbing my ponytail and dragging me back. I scream. He throws me against a wall, and I struggle, but he has a strong grip, and pushes the barrel of his gun to my forehead.

“Anything to say for yourself, rebel?”

He has barely finished speaking when Courfeyrac shoots him down. I run to him quickly, letting him help me behind the barricade. 

“Your hair is…” 

“Cut it off. All of it. I can’t risk it happening again.”

“As you wish,” he says, pulling out the scissors from his medical kit. I feel my head getting lighter as he saws off the remaining curls. “There. It’s not the neatest thing, but it’s gone. You will be plagued by soldiers pulling your hair no more.”

I nod to him, the longer part on top of my head falling into my face. I sigh and tie it out of the way once again, resigning myself to sit behind the barricade for now.

Joly rushes over to me, seeing the hollow look in my eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. Just startled. I’m okay.”

He looks unconvinced. “Are you sure? You look pale…”

“I’m always pale, Joly.”

He presses his hand to my forehead, looking at me worriedly. “You feel warm, too. Go sit for a moment. They are more than enough without you.”

I stand back up, still shaky from my encounter with the guard, and climb back over the barricade, accepting a pistol from Courfeyrac but nothing else. Joining the fight makes me feel free, like I’m not meant to be behind there healing. I don’t need healing. I just need to fight.

Combeferre has lost his gun and is being cornered by a pair of young-looking soldiers. I fire at one, hitting him square in the center of his back. He falls, and the other runs away. I toss my pistol to him and focus on helping whoever I can. 

There’s someone I don’t recognize here today, someone with long hair falling out from under a cap. I pull them aside.

“What’d you do that for? I had him!”

“Your hair. It’ll get in the way. Do you want me to cut it?”

The newcomer nods. “Not too short. Just enough.”

The nearest blade is a knife, taken from the bakery nearby. I use it to saw through their hair, trying to make it even while also going quickly. After I finish, it’s just under their ears, sweeping forward a bit. “There. No one can pull you away by it now.”

“Thank you.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Eponine. I’m one of Marius’s friends.”

“Marius. Courfeyrac’s roommate, Marius?”

Eponine nods. “He was meant to be here today… I thought I would greet him here.”

“Eponine, you don’t have a gun. Do you want one? We have extra ammunition as well.”

“No. I could never shoot someone. Give me a sword or a piece of wood to swing, and I will do just fine for myself.”

“Admirable.” I pull a broken-off chair leg from the barricade and hand it over. “Go fight for Marius.”

Eponine runs at a nearby soldier, screaming. I watch for a moment, then return to the barricade, climbing up to survey the city from above.

The moment I am up there, I hear a scream of pain from below. A small explosion— gone off below the barricades. Courfeyrac was hit terribly. I jump down once again, running towards him.

“Courfeyrac! Are you alright?!”

He smiles, but there's a piece of debris embedded in his forehead. He's bleeding a lot, and I drag him into the cafe to let Joly check his wounds. He looks terrified, having already been treating wounds for the whole day. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I… I’ve been worse,” he says, closing his eyes. “I just need a minute.”

Joly kneels down beside him and gets to work. I return to the battlefield, looking for everyone. I cannot seem to find some of them. Grantaire is gone. I don’t see Combeferre or Jehan, either. A sinking feeling pervades me. They can’t have died. It’s impossible. 

Someone who had been examining the rest of the city returns. Eagerly he says, “I have good news. At the other barricades, they are holding their own. And…” He pauses for effect. “We are taking the palace.”

A cheer rises up from those gathered on the barricade. The soldiers seem not to exist anymore. We are taking the palace. We are going to win. 

Suddenly, with great vigor, as if all in one body, everyone gathered at the barricade begins to fire. The soldiers are overwhelmed. Those not shot down turn and run. I hear something— an explosion— ring out over the city. Smoke rises from Tuileries. Then, silence.

As we slowly advance, still holding our weapons, we see others joining us. I look around, seeing hundreds— no, thousands of people. At least three thousand, definitely more. We approach the palace and see someone holding a flag stand at the entry. “Give us the king!” he cries.

The crowd begins to chant. I am forced back from the front of the crowd and can no longer see. I manage to find Bahorel and we stand together, hands pressed tightly, as the noise becomes overwhelming. 

Through all of the disaster, the noise and the waving of flags, I stand, pressed tightly against him. Grantaire finds us, with Jehan close behind. Soon we are all of us gathered, listening for something. 

Someone steps up to the guillotine.

The crowd roars. The king is led close behind. 

A moment of absolute quiet, and then the blade falls.

The chaos that rises next is barely noticeable to me. I am cheering with the crowd, I am ready for the freedom that this will bring. 

Once the crowd has cleared, I see the corpses. Too numerous to count. Soldiers, rebels, even small children. All of the Amis are here, and I have seen Eponine with Gavroche before, but I still scour the crowd of bodies, praying that I don’t recognize any of them. I know that none will be Grantaire, but still, I look at each corpse’s face, memorizing every one.

We return to the cafe. This fight has exhausted everything I have in me. It spread so quickly, and I hear excited chatter throughout the streets. All of a sudden, I see a man in a soldier’s uniform stumble towards us. 

He has no weapon. He just looks scared. Combeferre raises his pistol anyway, and the man flinches, raising his hands. 

“Please don’t shoot.”

The voice is familiar to me. He approaches, walking towards Courfeyrac with a terrified look on his face. 

“Excuse me,” he says. “Excuse me, I’m looking for my daughter?”

I freeze. I am staring into the face of my father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to @vivelapluto for being my wonderful beta-reader, and as always, comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


	19. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjolras gets deadnamed and misgendered at the beginning, and also his hair gets cut, so proceed with caution if that's not your thing

Combeferre takes my hand and pulls me close. I know he recognizes him, too. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Bossuet says. “Can you tell us where you saw her?”

“I… I don’t know where she lives.” He notices Combeferre. “You! You were on the— no, it doesn’t matter. My Artemis. Where is she? Did you bring her into this, too? Is she dead?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I do not know where Artemis is.”

“Diana, then. Is she here? Is she somewhere on the barricades with you?”

“You must not worry about her. She is safe. I have found her lodgings for these past nights with little trouble.”

My father is right here. Standing before me. 

“Please. Allow me to bring you to her,” Combeferre says, letting go of me. “I will show you that she is safe.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” he says, pulling Combeferre into a hug. “You will never know how grateful I am for this.” They walk off to our apartments, and I look to Grantaire with a terrified expression on my face.

“That was my father.”

Instantly they rush toward me. “Are you alright? Did you see him on the barricades? You don’t look well. Is something wrong? Did he recognize you?”

I lean on Grantaire. “I don’t understand. Why is he here?”

“He’s with the Guard. He was here to stop us,” Joly says darkly. “I understand perfectly.”

We regroup at the cafe, where I finally let myself rest. It had been much too long since I had slept for longer than two hours, and for three days, I hadn’t so much as thought about sleeping. I had much more on my mind than sleep. I sit down and immediately feel dizzy, and suddenly remember that I’d gone a day without food as well. No food. No sleep. Grantaire looks over at me worriedly.

“Are you alright? You look awful.”

“I… I’m alright,” I say. “I just… I need to sleep. Maybe eat something.”

“Are you… you haven’t been overworking yourself, have you?”

“I know I should relax. We won. I did it. We killed the king, we can build up the government once again, but… I still feel awful. I’ve killed. I don’t know how many people are dead now because of me.”

“You had to,” he says, looking at me sympathetically. “You had no choice. It was kill or be killed on the barricades, you don’t need to feel guilty about this.”

“But I do,” I say, sitting upright and looking him dead in the eyes. “I am responsible for the deaths of people who deserved to live as much as I do. This is not a victory, Grantaire. This is a tragedy.”

Combeferre enters again, with Diana at his heels. I press my worried feelings down. Jehan has still not returned.

“Father has gone home,” Diana says to me, seeing how panicked I look. “He is content with knowing that I am safe. It will be alright.” Though I already knew that my family didn’t much care for me, knowing that Diana was the only child my father needed to find today was awful. 

“Are you alright? No one hurt you?”

She nods. “I’m quite fine. You? Anything happen?”

“Just a few bruises,” I say. “I’m glad you’re okay. Did anyone tell you anything about what’s going on in the palace?”

“Yes. They want you there. The leaders of each section of the rebellion are being called to form a group of representatives, and… they want to elect someone as a leader for all of us.”

I stand quickly. “I’m going.”

“You want to be a leader?”

I shake my head. “No. I just want to have a say in what’s going on. I know that they can’t really be bothered to make a decision on a leader. I wouldn’t be either. I don’t want someone to take the position of king again.”

“We can go with you,” Courfeyrac says. “If you want.”

“The two of you.” I gesture to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. “I… I need you there with me. If they’re looking for leaders, I doubt they could find them worthier than you.”

He nods. “They’re having the meeting for all of the rebellion leaders tomorrow. It’s going to be in the palace, and I think everyone’s being called there as well. All of the rebels, of course, it’s not like the monarchists have much of a say in anything anymore.”

I run a hand through the mess of my hair and sigh. “Is there some sort of dress code? I’d assume there would be, we’re going to be in the palace…”

Diana nods. “Your hair isn’t going to cut it, I’d say. I know you had to get it out of the way, but it’s still tragic. It’s a disaster! I don’t know how any of you men tolerate it so short.”

Grantaire sighs. “I don’t think it looks too bad.”

I look in one of the mirrors in the cafe, one that’s a bit broken from the struggle, and wince at my hair. The ends are extremely choppy, and of course it looks a mess, it was cut on the barricades with a pair of medical scissors in barely a minute. Courfeyrac gives me a half-smile. 

“I know it’s awful. It was the best I could do in the moment.”

“Well, you got it out of the way, and that’s all that it needed to be,” I say, smiling at him. I know it’s a disaster. It won’t exactly cut it in the palace, of course, but it was good enough during a fight, and that’s what counts.

I know we’re avoiding talking about the events of today. It’s hard enough to think about it, and it hurts me to even begin to imagine talking about it. When that soldier put the gun to my head… I shudder. It’s awful.

Grantaire sees that I’m struggling. “Are you alright?”

I nod, looking away from him. “Just worried about what happened. It’s so hard to think about.”

“I know,” he says. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

Combeferre coughs quietly. “We have to prepare for the meeting, remember? Don’t get too caught up. I don’t want to remember either.”

I nod. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried. It’s… it’s hard.”

He walks over to me, taking my hand. “I know. Whenever I think about the… the horrible things I had to do… I know. We all know.” He gestures around the cafe. I see them all there, covered in dust and gunpowder, some bruised, others looking at me with hollow eyes. I can’t help myself. Tears spring to my eyes, and I feel myself start crying.

“I’m sorry,” I say, worried that they would be upset. “I don’t mean to… get emotional. I just… any of you could have died today. I’m so glad you’re still here.”

Feuilly walked over to me and put his arms around me. Bahorel followed. Soon, nearly everyone was standing together, almost all of us crying. 

“I’m really sorry,” I say again. “You… you’re all just so important to me.”

Courfeyrac smiles. “You’re important to me too, Apollo.”

I start crying all over again. It’s been just so much today. Everything that’s happened, everything that could have killed me or someone else that I love… it was too much for me. 

Suddenly, I see someone at the door. His arm in a sling, a girl standing beside him. I can’t see his face— the sunset behind him is lighting him too brightly from the back— but the short, choppy hair of the girl is unmistakable.

“Eponine?”

She runs towards me, and we all disperse. “Marius said we would find you here,” she says. “You saved my life today. I wanted to thank you… for everything. For protecting me, and for protecting Gavroche.”

I nod. “I could never leave someone behind.”

Marius, standing in the door, looks uncomfortable. Courfeyrac leads him in, sitting him down at one of the empty tables. He smiles awkwardly at us.

“I know I, um, never supported you before… but today, you changed my mind completely. I had no idea you could be so unified. It was like all of Paris was on your side.”

I sit beside him in one of the empty chairs, nodding stiffly. “I know we will never agree on much, but… you were there for Eponine. I respect you for that.”

He looks over to her. She’s talking to Grantaire animatedly. “I care about her. She’s one of my closest friends.”

“Why did you come with her?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you come here? With Eponine?”

“Oh, um, I was here to… to invite you. Cosette— my, um, my mistress— we’re getting married.”

“Congratulations,” I say dryly. “Are you looking for a wedding blessing from someone, or will you be leaving now?”

“I thought Courfeyrac would… you and him… and everyone would want to come,” he says. “I know we have never been on the best of terms, but… today has changed me, Enjolras. Today I am a different man.”

“I understand that you are a changed man, you are Courfeyrac’s friend, and that you’re somehow a member of our rebellion even after not supporting us, but… I’m unsure that the family that you’re bringing us to would want a group of radicals at their daughter’s wedding.”

“Oh. There is… there is no family. Just her father. And he is quite unique. He is an ex-convict, see, and he was at one of the barricades. He took me from one once I was hit.”

“You were at the barricades today? Why didn’t you stay with us?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was only there for you. Seeing the people out on the streets, calling for a change… it made me believe change was really possible. So I went. I joined them. Gavroche brought me supplies, and I fought until I was shot in the arm. I am healing well enough, it barely grazed me, but… I just wanted you to know that I really did fight today.”

I shake Marius's hand. “You did not need to prove yourself by getting shot, but it is much appreciated.” 

As the sun goes down, we don’t leave the cafe. It would be impossible to go home today. I still don’t know if my father is there, as well. 

Diana walks over to me, a blanket draped over her shoulders. “Apollo, will you sleep tonight?”

“I do not know,” I say. “I just wish to forget. Everything seems so… so fresh. If I could just forget everything, I would choose that in a heartbeat.”

She puts an arm around me. “Apollo… you need to rest, love. You cannot stay awake forever, especially after today.”

I nod, feeling the weight of my exhaustion hit me. “I do need rest.” 

It is dark, and Combeferre and Bossuet go around the cafe lighting the lamps. Bahorel finally notices my hair and nearly faints. “You cannot go to the palace looking like that! You will make our group look horrible! I will not allow it.” He sits me down in one of the chairs and brings out a pocket mirror that he has, for some reason. 

Courfeyrac hands him a pair of sewing scissors and a small knife he found. He grimaces. “You expect me to cut his hair with these?”

“You are not a hairdresser, Bahorel. You don’t need fancy tools. It needn’t look good, just presentable.”

He sighs, but gets to work. I admit, my hair does look terrible. Hacked off in the midst of a battle with a pair of dull medical scissors while still in a ponytail. The way it curls helps a bit, but nothing can disguise that it was definitely not done well. 

The quiet in the cafe as everyone dresses their wounds and prepares to go to bed relaxes me. I barely move as the sounds wind down, listening to Joly and Combeferre care for everyone who was hurt. Luckily, there is nothing too severe, just a few cuts and bruises. The worst of it is already treated, though. Joly was hit in his bad leg and his limp has worsened, Combeferre has a nasty bruise on his forehead, and of course Courfeyrac’s forehead has the scar.

Once I am finished, someone opens the door. At first I do not recognize them, dressed in a prisoner’s uniform with short hair cropped close to their head, but the bright red of their hair is unmistakable. When they look up, I immediately know it is Jehan— but so wrong. Covered in bruises, hair shorn, wearing the clothes of a prisoner… this is not the Jehan I know. Tears stream down their face, leaving tracks in the dirt that coats them. 

“They cut my hair,” Jehan says, and falls to their knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, my dudes! as always, comments and kudos are appreciated!


	20. Jehan Heals and Marius Arrives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for enjolras getting accidentally misgendered and for mentions of flashbacks/night terrors

Jehan cries in Courfeyrac’s arms for nearly the rest of the night. The humiliation, everything they have suffered through today, is too much for them.

I can barely look at them. The loose clothes they wear reveal enormous bruises all along their back, and their hair is cut so close to their head that I can practically see their scalp in places. It looks so wrong.

Wiping their eyes, Jehan stands back up on shaky legs. They are barefoot, and I can see that their feet are bleeding. “It hurts,” they sob, sitting down on one of the makeshift cots we had made for the day. Combeferre kneels beside them to soothe them, but they are completely inconsolable. 

Grantaire approaches me. “I cannot believe what’s happened to them,” he says quietly. “Jehan’s hair was their pride and joy. They were so happy when they had finally had their hair long. It meant so much to them, and now…”

I nod. “I know. It’s so awful.”

Finally, after so long, Jehan falls asleep, still sniffling a little. Combeferre sits beside them, a hand on their shoulder as they rest.

“You should sleep too, Enjolras,” Feuilly says. “You’ve done so much for us today. Rest.”

I shake my head. “I’ll keep watch. There could still be dangerous people on the streets tonight. If they came to the cafe… all of us asleep… I can’t think about it.”

Feuilly nods. “I can watch, though. You should sleep. Being at the palace tomorrow will need your full attention.”

I sigh and resign myself to sleep. Combeferre hands me a blanket and I lay back on a cot, trying to sleep. But behind my eyes, all I can see is flashing images of the barricades. I sit up, staring through the window, certain that I’d heard someone at the door, but no one is there. Marius is sitting, looking out the window, and I stand up and go to him.

“How is your arm?”

He jumps a bit, startled. “It doesn’t hurt as much as it did before,” he says. “It will be alright in a little while.”

I nod. “I’m trying to sleep, but… it’s difficult. All I can see is the barricades.”

Marius looks at me sympathetically. “I’m so sorry.”

I shrug. “It’s going to go away eventually,” I say. The ‘I hope’ goes unsaid, but the slight tremor in my voice gives away my fear that it will never pass.

He looks towards me, fearful. “I’ve had the nightmares too. I don’t think they will ever go away.”

“They have to,” I say. “They need to.” 

I stay up late, talking to Marius, until the sun rises. Cosette comes to the door with a man who appears to be her father and runs into Marius’s arms, weeping. The man stands there in the doorway, watching me. I walk over to him, wincing at the pain in my muscles from yesterday’s fighting.

“Are you the one who is going to the palace today?” he asks in a soft, accented voice. I nod, and he looks over at Marius and Cosette. 

“Is that your daughter?”

“Yes… in a fashion.” He smiles. “She is betrothed to Marius, and insisted on coming here to find him.”

“I know Cosette,” I say, smiling. “She has helped me out of more than one tight spot, and I’d do the same for her. I’m glad that she found him.”

The man looks over at me with a look on his face like he was trying to figure me out. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, miss, why do you dress like a boy?”

I flinch. “I’m sorry, I… I am not a woman. I am a man.”

He nods. “I’m so sorry, sir,” he says. “You just… you look so feminine, I was mistaken. I’m very sorry.”

I nod, trying to smile. It doesn’t help. I don’t understand. I thought I was becoming better, that with my hair shorter it would be easier for me to be seen as male. I was wrong. The man sees how worried I am and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

I smile. It’s forced. “Yes, I’m fine,” I say, and walk off to find Grantaire. I can’t do this.

When I leave the cafe, I see the many piles of furniture that still line the streets, and shudder. It just makes me remember even more. I know I must look like a disaster, as I’m still barely dressed and I have bruises all over my body. I see Combeferre and Courfeyrac in one of the shops, laughing and talking with the woman standing behind the counter. They notice me and wave me in, so I follow inside.

“You must come meet Eglantine! Bahorel’s mistress, remember? She’s helping us get food and clothing for our rebuilding of the Musain.”

She smiles at me. “You must be the Enjolras I’ve heard so much about,” she says, taking a large paper-wrapped package off of one of the shelves and handing it to me. I look at it confusedly and pull the string from around it. Unwrapping it, I see the suit that Fantine made me, with a few changes and small alterations. 

“You found this?”

“Fantine worked here for a while,” she says. “When she left, I kept in touch with her. Once the rebellion started yesterday, she left, unable to remain in Paris. She gave these to me to keep them safe. I’ve wrapped all of the clothing made for you and will bring it to you when I gather the rest of the supplies you’ll need.”

“Thank you,” I say, holding the package to my chest. “Oh, I’ve been looking for Grantaire. Have you seen him anywhere?”

They both shake their heads. I sigh and leave, thanking Eglantine again for her help. When I walk back to the cafe, I see Grantaire, doubled over the bar with a bottle of wine. I quickly make my way to him and sit beside him. “Are you alright? Are you feeling sick?”

He sighs. “Not sick, I just… I need a drink.” He takes another swig from the bottle. I sigh and close my eyes. 

“Taire, you can’t… this isn’t the way to handle this,” I say worriedly. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself. Please. Just put the bottle down.”

“What are you going to do, make me?”

I step back, shocked. His voice is so bitter, so harsh. He seems so angry… I can barely listen to him. I put my hand on his, holding his hand tightly.

“Leave me alone, Apollo,” he says, turning away from me. 

“Please, Taire,” I say, my voice breaking. “You can’t do this to yourself. I don’t want to see you like this.”

“You wouldn’t, would you? Because you don’t even care. You’re just here to make me stop and then you’ll ignore me again.”

I bite my lip. “I’m not… I don’t want to be ignoring you…”

“Well, that’s great,” he says bitterly. “Why not actually pay attention to me?”

My heart is breaking, and I take Grantaire’s hand once again, trying to pull him towards me. I don’t know what else to do. I just need him to stop. 

He drops the bottle, and it shatters on the floor near the cots. Joly wakes with a start, grabbing his cane like a weapon. When he sees the bottle, he puts a hand on his chest, breathing heavily. “I thought someone had… I thought we were being attacked.”

Grantaire glares at me and puts his head back down on the table. I reach for him, but hesitate. I just don’t want him to snap at me again.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac return, now dressed in their formal suits. I look to my wrinkled, bloodstained shirt and dust-covered trousers and immediately go red. “I’ll get dressed now,” I say uncomfortably, and rush to the back room. 

No one is there, so I change and rush back to them, my hair flying out behind me. Courfeyrac looks at me with a bemused expression. 

“You look a little nicer than before. And I hate to admit it, but Bahorel did a good job on your hair.”

I smile. “What matters now is the meeting. Shall we go?”

“Yes please. I want to be on time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! next week's chapter has probably inaccurate political nonsense so be ready for that. theres still a plot i swEAR
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	21. Proud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is very political at the beginning, and there are some mentions of wounds and blindness, so if that's not for you, be warned.

When we arrive, there are hundreds of people, all standing at the front of the Palais de Tuileries. I look to Courfeyrac in confusion— he is looking around with a squint.

“Everything is… blurry…”

Combeferre takes his hand and pulls him close. “It’s alright. Stay by my side.”

We walk into the palace. There is a room for the rebellion leaders to prepare, and a separate room for those who want to watch. Combeferre holds Courfeyrac close as he looks around, a worried look on his face. I walk towards the man who stands in front of the door.

“Are you a leader?”

“Yes.”

He looks unconvinced. “What group?”

“The Amis de l’ABC.” I try to make my voice deeper than it is. “These two are my second- and third-in-command. They come with me.”

He nods and lets me in. The room is full of people, bustling around. One man is wearing all black, his hair slicked back and a dark look in his eyes. I recognize him as the leader of the Society for the Rights of Man in our sector. He is terrifying, and the society is as well. It’s almost like an army.

I look around. There are people of all sorts here— men, women, the rich, the poor, everyone you could possibly think of. I see one woman wearing the colors of the flag in her outfit. She seems extremely wealthy, her hair piled high with golden hairpins and her dress seeming expensive and well-made.

All of a sudden, the doors burst open, and we are let into the throne room. They had set it up in a new way, with seats all around for everyone to see each other. I sit with Combeferre at a table next to a young man wearing a threadbare coat. He was on our barricade, I realize, remembering that I saw him during the battle once or twice.

“Everyone! Everyone, to order!”

The room goes still. I look to the front of the room, where the woman in the flag outfit stands. “I understand that you all are excited to continue with your discussions,” she says in a high, clear voice, “but there is much to decide on. We are, after all, rebuilding the world. This will be our own world. A world for the people.”

A cheer rings out from the hundreds of people gathered behind us. I take Combeferre’s hand and try not to be worried. There are so many people here. They’re here to see us. I have to make a good impression.

Once everyone has quieted once again, she explains how we’ll be handling this. It needs some kind of system, after all. The woman explains that we will be deciding on what to implement as new law. It seems that she’s become an impromptu leader, and we soon learn that she goes by the name Paulette. She takes inspiration from the work of Sand and de Gouges, and is desperately trying to give women equality.

Many of those who are gathered here agree. When we vote on this, all in the room are in favor of women’s equal rights. We also vote to have an elected leader, to give education to all, and as the day goes on, I am unbelievably pleased by what we have done.

We are freeing the world.

As the day comes to an end, Paulette asks that all the leaders present introduce themselves, the group they lead, and the goals they have for the country. She begins.

“I am Paulette, I lead the Society of Free Women, and I dream of a world where all are free.”

Others introduce themselves. The Society of the Rights of Man has sixteen leaders present, and only one speaks for them— the man I saw before. He says that he wants all to have the rights of liberty and equality.

I listen to all of these men and women, all talking about freedom and justice, and as we conclude our meeting, I am filled with hope.

Our first discussion is only preliminary. We decide that there will never again be a king— and whoever we choose to rule will not be given too much power. One of the men present suggests that the church’s power be taken away, and many agree. As we draft what will become a constitution, a few things are given consideration. A decision is made quickly— an assembly of elected officials will hold the power, and the ruler will not be as powerful as before.

Paulette says that there will be a second meeting in a few days. She adjourns us, and all those watching pour out the doors.

As we leave, Courfeyrac stumbles and falls. We lift him up, trying to stop him from being stepped on, but when he reaches for us, he looks around and does not focus.

I take his hand and lift him to my shoulder, letting his arms drape over me.

“I… Ferre, I can’t see.”

He draws a sharp breath and takes Courfeyrac’s hand. “You will be fine. You’ll be alright.”

We walk back to the cafe, and I help him sit on one of the cots. I look to Joly, who is still seated. He looks like he is in utter despair.

“Joly—”

“My leg. I can’t move it.”

My heart sinks. So much injury. So many wounds today. “Have you tried to stand?”

He nods. “It won’t work. I can’t get stable.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, kneeling down beside him. “Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t think so. It’s so deeply lodged in my leg, and it doesn’t hurt any more, which is a bad sign. It could be nerve damage. I could be paralyzed.”

This doesn’t seem like his usual paranoia. I take his hands in mine. “We can get through this. You will be alright.”

He looks to me, worried. I’m worried, too. He’s terrified. I would be too.

Grantaire comes in, holding more supplies. “You’re back,” he says, putting down the supplies on the counter. He sees Courfeyrac, staring up into nothingness. “What happened? He looks… what’s going on, Enjolras?”

“He can’t see. I just hope this will pass.”

Courfeyrac sits up and feels for the side of the bar. I go to his side quickly, taking his hand. “Here. Let me help you.” He pulls away.

“No. I can do this.”

Watching him struggle makes me feel awful. Finally, he manages to get to his feet without hurting himself. He reaches out for me, feeling for my hand. I help him into a seat, looking at him with a worried expression. He still looks vacant, his eyes don’t focus. “Any better?”

“No. I feel so helpless.”

“I can guide you,” Combeferre says quickly. “You will not be helpless. I won’t let you.”

I sit back in one corner of the Musain, looking over my friends. They’re suffering. They’re in agony. The republic has been secured, at the price of hundreds of lives and the pain of my friends. I feel as though I’ve been shot in the stomach.

Bossuet sits beside me, looking at me worriedly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m… I feel helpless. It is my fault that everyone is hurt.” He looks at me confusedly. “It is. If they had not fought at my side, Courfeyrac would not have been blinded. Joly would still be able to walk. Jehan wouldn’t be… I just wish that I’d done something. I can’t help everyone, I feel like I can’t help anyone at all.”

He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve done well, Apollo. I know that you’re doing all that you can. You helped Jehan, you helped Joly, you helped everyone. Eponine is safe because of you, and you saved Combeferre. You’re incredibly strong.”

I sigh and take his hand, my heart sinking. “But… what about Jehan? They were so hurt, I can’t believe I couldn’t help them. They’re such a good person, they deserve so much better than what has been handed to them.”

“No, you’ve done everything you can,” he says. “There was nothing you could have done.”

I look to Jehan, who’s sitting alone in a corner, wrapped tightly in a blanket. They look awful, the bruises on their face and the bloody scratch on the side of their face prominent against their pale skin. They have dark circles ringing their eyes and a few overlong strands of hair hanging down around their face.

Then I look toward Joly, who’s cleaning the wound on his leg. He winces in pain every few moments, as he wipes away the blood and dirt from the bullet hole. Combeferre is sitting beside him, helping him clean out the wound with a cloth. He keeps crying out, the awful look on his face showing how much pain he must be in.

Courfeyrac sits there, talking to Feuilly, who’s rebandaging the wounds on his chest. He looks horrible, the scars on his face and arms showing how harsh the explosion had been. Feuilly, too, looks in bad shape, with a long scratch running down his stomach and a few bruises along his arms and back. Courfeyrac looks around with a blank, worried expression on his face, his eyes still not focusing on anything.

I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, hoping that I will someday be able to erase those images from my mind. Courfeyrac. Joly. Jehan. Even Feuilly and Combeferre are hurt. This could have been stopped. Is this the price of freedom?

Feuilly walks over, pulling his shirt back onto his head. He sits down beside Bahorel, leaning his forehead against his shoulder. Bahorel smiles at him, closing his eyes and pulling Feuilly into his lap.

Marius and Cosette return. They come with clothing, food, and medical supplies. Cosette stays by Courfeyrac, talking with him about the blindness that has suddenly struck him. Marius, on the other hand, goes to Jehan. He runs a hand through their hair, looking horrified by the bruises, the sloppily cut hair, and the cuts.

Cosette’s father is here as well. I go to him, seeing how he looks at Jehan.

“Are you alright?”

“Was that man in prison?” he asks urgently. I nod. “After the rebellions? And what happened? Those cuts?”

“Jehan was… left to die.”

He draws in breath sharply. “I came to you to tell you something. It seems even more needed now that I’ve seen what has happened to you. You— all of you— are always welcome in my home.”

I nod. “Thank you. I am rather sure that I’ll be taking you up on that offer.”

“I will await you eagerly,” he says with a gentle smile. He seems kind. I regret how afraid I was of him. He seems to care about us, and Marius said that he had been at the barricade.

As I stand in the doorway, watching how we all work together, support each other, and keep each other safe. Though the events which have just occurred make me feel awful, and I’d never want them to happen to anyone, I cannot deny how much closer they’ve brought us. It makes me happy. Deep inside, it makes me proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! thanks to @bluesargeants for being my wonderful beta reader <3  
> comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	22. May 6th, Current Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of dysphoria talk in this one.

_ I led him to my attic bedroom, sitting down beside him.  _

_ “Are you sure this will work?”  _

No, _ I thought to myself.  _ I’m not. _ “Of course. I’ll make sure that you’re safe.” _

_ Enjolras nodded. I took out the valise I had bought, starting to pack. Food, my old clothing, some clothing that I still wear, and some older items to give to him.  _

_ “Combeferre?” _

_ I turned to him. He sat on my bed, still dressed in the old day dress his mother insisted on him wearing. Though I had only ever seen him in men’s clothing once, it now seemed odd for him to be dressed in anything but suits and shirts. _

_ “I… I know you are doing a great deal for me,” he said quietly. “I do not want to seem ungrateful, or ask you for too much, but… may I change? When I live here, may I dress as a man?” _

_ “Apollo, that is not too much to ask,” I say. “Of course you may. Would you like me to help you change now?” _

_ His eyes lit up like they did when he wore a suit at the wedding. “Yes.” _

_ After a short struggle to get Enjolras out of the tight dress and into his new attire, he was finally dressed in his outfit. He would be typically dressed like this from now on, I supposed, and the way he looked now really did suit him much better. _

_ “My hair is still long,” he said, playing with the long curls as he looked in the mirror. The way he ran his hands through his hair was rough and desperate.  _

_ “You’ll not have to have it this way for very long.” I put a hand on his back gently. “You’re going to look how you want to be, love. You already do look masculine.” _

_ He sighed quietly and lifted a long blond strand of hair, looking at it in disgust. I pulled his hair back, took a hat from on top of the traveling chest, and tucked it inside. He closed his eyes and let me brush the ends forward to look shorter than they actually were. Finally, opening his eyes, he looked at his reflection. T _ _ ugging on the ends, he looked at himself in wonder.  _

_ “Thank you,” he said softly. That was all he said, and that was all he needed to say.  _

_ My mother called to me, tapping gently on the door. “Claude? Are you in there?” _

_ “Just a moment, mother,” I said. “I’ll be out.”  _

_ Opening the door, I walked out to talk to her. She looks at me with a smile. “I’m so proud of you, love. Finally married, going to be a doctor… You certainly would make your father proud.” _

_ I smiled. “Thank you, maman.” _

_ “Are you two going to go out? It’s lovely out today, perfect weather, and the flowers are blooming. You won’t have to go back to school for another few days.” _

_ “Yes, mother.” _

_ Enjolras looked at me as I return. “Are we going out?” _

_ “Yes. And if we go out, it gives me the chance to perhaps find something for you to wear? You cannot wear my old clothing forever.”  _

_ “Yes, I know,” he said quietly. “Let’s go.” _

_ He took my hand, and I squeezed it gently. “You’re going to be alright,” I said, smiling down at him. He didn’t seem like he believed me, and again I was struck by how small he looked. Less so than he did before, dressed in my oversized clothes, but still small, weak, someone who needs protection.  _

_ “I know I am,” he snapped. “Just as soon as I get to Paris and I am a man in the eyes of the world.” _

_ “You are already a man in my eyes,” I said warmly. _

_ “And how I wish that was enough,” he replied, looking up at me. “If how you saw me was how all saw me, then all would be well. But it is not. I must work for even the slightest amount of compensation, a bit of acknowledgement that I am who I say I am.”  _

_ He sighed and rolled back his shoulders. I let go of his hand.  _

_ “Are you ready?” _

_ “I am.” _

_ “Then, let’s go.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, I finally figured out a timeline for this fic, lmao! Thanks so much for reading! As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated.


	23. Returning Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjolras gets misgendered a bit in this chapter, and there's some period-appropriate uncomfortable stuff about gender, so that's the stuff to watch out for.

I look at myself in the mirror. Too thin, too short, too smooth of face to look like a man. The shortness of my hair does not disguise the femininity of my face or my lack of an Adam’s apple, and my body is obviously feminine. The flaring of my hips, the tight curve in of my waist, all these things are evident as I look, deeper and deeper, and I recoil, realizing that I’m so close to the mirror that I have barely a centimeter between them.

“Apollo? Are you dressed?” Courfeyrac knocks on the door. “I am not so blind as all that,” he jokes. “May I come in?”

“Yes, go ahead,” I say, stepping back from the mirror. “You look nice.” He does. His hair was most likely pushed back, a few unruly curls poking out from under his hat. 

“You do too,” he says. “Well, you’re still a bit blurry around the edges right now, but from what I can tell, red is still your color.”

I laugh. “You? You’re not much of a judge right now, are you?”

He forces a laugh. “No, I suppose I’m not.”

Suddenly ashamed, I take his hands quickly. “I’m sorry. I should not have— I am terribly sorry, Courfeyrac.”

“No need. I know you meant nothing by it.”

“Still. I won’t do it again.”

“Come. We have to leave for your mother’s in a little while, don’t we?”

“Y-yes.” I look down at my feet. “Ah— Courfeyrac—” 

“What do you need, my Apollo?”

“Do you— are you sure that this is smart? We could be caught— Mother may recognize me, she would go after me—”

“She won’t. You look nothing like how you used to, your hair is short, you’re a man, you’re strong and masculine. I promise.”

“But—”

“No buts, Enjolras.” He puts his hands on my shoulders gently. “Now. We will be late if we do not leave soon. Leave these fears behind and come downstairs with me.”

“But Courfeyrac—”

“No. Please, Apollo, you mustn’t do this.” 

I sigh quietly and let myself relax. He smiles widely at me. “Good, good. Now, we must go.”

Everyone is already downstairs when we arrive. Jehan, of course, looks lovely, as usual, and now that their hair is a bit longer, they look more like themself. 

Diana takes my hands with a playful smile. “You look very handsome. Except for your stupid personality, I’m sure you’ll be the talk of the ball. That is, if you don’t build a barricade in the drawing room.”

I sigh. “Well, Diana, you look pretty in that dress. You stole that from me? Or was it Cosette’s dress before you abducted it?”

She laughs. “Oh, Apollo. You weren’t using it! It’s not like you were going to wear that dress, so I thought someone might as well give it a good use.”

I sigh. Grantaire walks up to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. 

“You’re nervous, huh?”

“Very. I’m still scared she’s going to recognize me.”

“Well, from what Diana’s told me, she won’t,” he says. “You don’t look like a woman. I’ve never considered you as such in all the time I’ve known you.”

I smile, in spite of myself. It’s still comforting to hear, even though I’ve heard it hundreds of times before from Combeferre and Courfeyrac. It doesn’t feel genuine, of course, but it is a wonderful comfort to know that they care about me enough to tell me these sorts of things.

I know it’s hard to understand. I’ve never really understood it, either, the reason that I feel the way I do. Even when I was young and it seemed that the only way to feel right was to run away to Combeferre whenever I needed help, to take his clothes at every opportunity, to ask him to call me by another name, I didn’t understand the reason why. I just let myself do it.

Lost in my memories, I stand by, recalling the many times that my father had told me not to act the way I did. And every time I was hurt by him or afraid of what I had to do, I would go to Combeferre. I had never gone to anyone except him.

Shaking myself out of my reverie, I looked to the front of the house. I still cannot really comprehend where I live now.

We have been living with Cosette’s father, M. Fauchelevent, for a few weeks now. Our apartments seemed too small, and in a few days the election for our representative will happen. Combeferre insists that our future leader must stay somewhere more fitting. Luna has enjoyed it here as well, being doted upon by Cosette and her father whenever I am out.

The carriages arrive and we exit. As we are driven to my mother’s home, I nervously tap my finger against the wood of the door, just hoping that she won’t do anything to me. Combeferre’s hand rests on mine, and I stop. It’s embarrassing that I’ve been caught in my anxious tic, and I close my eyes, leaning back against the walls of the carriage. I feel desperately worried. My mind keeps going to the darkest places— she might find out that it’s me. She might hurt me. She might hurt  _ Grantaire _ . 

As we finally arrive, I sigh. I know this house. I know it much too well. 

Combeferre tries to help me out of the carriage, but I tear my hand away. “I am not your wife. I can get out by myself.”

He nods. “Are you alright? Your mother—”

“I will be fine.”

“You will be, but of course you aren’t now,” Grantaire says, a worried expression on his face. “I don’t want you to be upset.”

I sigh and walk with Diana to the entrance of the house, where she knocks on the door. When we enter, I’m taken back to the many other times I’ve been here. Birthdays, coming-out parties, my wedding. I shudder. There are too many memories here.

Grantaire takes my hand. I smile up at him. “Thank you,” I say quietly, looking down at myself. It is certainly a far cry from how I looked the last time I was here.

My mother greets Diana and Combeferre with a plastered-on smile. “Oh, it’s so wonderful that you’re home!” she exclaims. I turn away from her, pretending to be very distracted by adjusting my jacket. I look different, it’s true, but no amount of disguise can change my face, which she had seen every day for years and years. 

“You’ve been gone for so long,” my father says. “But where is Artemis?”

My hand tenses around the sleeve of my shirt. Grantaire senses this and places a hand gently on my arm to comfort me.

“Ah, she is ill,” Combeferre says. “She has been bedridden for a few days now, unfortunately, but she extends her greetings and apologies that she could not be here.”

It’s jarring, hearing him talk about someone that is both me and not me. I continue to stand there, adjusting my clothing nervously, as my mother sighs and fusses over Combeferre, who thankfully did remember to put on his wedding ring again before we came.

She and my father greet everyone, her enormous gown brushing my leg for a moment before she swirls out of the way. When she sees Grantaire, she pauses.

“I’ve seen you before somewhere,” she says cautiously. “At my daughter’s apartment, when I came to visit her. I know you. And this— is this the man you were with?”

She tugs on my sleeve and turns me around. I stare up at her, and I see the recognition in her eyes. It’s sudden, terrifying— a moment that seems to stretch on for years. There is unmistakable hate and revulsion in her eyes. Her hand immediately moves from my arm, as if she’s unable to touch me from her disgust. I step back and try to distance myself from her glare, bumping into Grantaire as I do. 

_ She recognized me. Of course she recognized me. She knows. She’s going to hurt me. She’s going to hurt all of us. I have to run— no, I can’t leave them— but I have to get away from her— I have to protect them, I can’t just run away from what’s hurting me. _ I step back once again, back to the wall.  _ How cowardly of me that I can rebel against the entire government, but standing up to my mother is what will eventually kill me. _

“You.”

“Yes, Mother, it’s me.” My voice is clear, low but carrying. I struggle to keep myself steady. It’s terrifying. 

“Get out of my house now.”

“No.” I hold my head high, pressing my nails into the palms of my hands to keep them from shaking. She looks so angry, an expression I’d seen on her only once before. I bite my lip to stop from thinking about that awful memory.

“What do you mean, no? Artemis—”

“That’s not my name!” I shout, unable to control myself. I watch as her eyes go colder and colder. The glare fastens now on Combeferre.

“You’re encouraging her,” she says, her voice growing higher. She almost seems mad, staring at him with such ferocity. “This is your fault. You went into the city and got those awful notions in your head about—”

“About liberty? About the right to live in whatever way you want?” Grantaire steps up beside me, the fiercest I’ve ever seen him. “You have no right to say this to your own son.”

“Come. Let’s leave.” Combeferre turns on his heel and walks out the door. The rest follow close behind. I am last, lingering with Grantaire and Diana. She makes a move to leave, but my father takes her hand and pulls her back. She wrenches herself angrily out of his grasp and runs out the door before he can go any farther towards her. I look from her to Grantaire. He takes my hand, and we leave the house quickly to the waiting, open arms of our friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading friends! since i took my week off and this is my buffer chapter, i'll be taking a week off from posting next week, so don't expect a new chapter. as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated.


	24. Be Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am So So Sorry that this took 8000 years to upload!! this is the final non-epilogue chapter so i wanted it to be good! and yes, more on that at the end. tw for lots of medical talk. enj passes out at one point it's gr8.

I stand shocked in front of what used to be my home. It makes no sense. That’s all I can think, in a constant refrain in my head. This makes no sense. This makes no sense. 

What will I do? No money, no inheritance, nothing to my name. Word will certainly get to Combeferre’s family, and quickly too. They will no longer give him money, for fear that he’ll give it to me. I will be dragged into destitution, and drag him down with me.

Suddenly I realize how hard I am breathing, and how constricted my chest feels. In my panic, I’ve forgotten how hard it is to breathe. I waver, stumbling slightly, and look for something to lean on, but nothing. My balance is nearly gone, and I don’t have anything to hold me up. All of the fear and worry that I haven’t let myself feel the past few weeks comes crashing down in waves, and I fall, unable to support myself any longer. 

Combeferre and Grantaire rush over, Courfeyrac trailing behind them. I reach up for their hands, but they seem to be falling away from me. Or I am falling away from them. My vision is blurry. I can’t see. I don’t want to start panicking, but I do. All I can think of is her.  _ I can’t see. I can’t see. I can’t— _

Everything goes black.

_ “Oh my God.” He falls back onto the path. I drop to one knee beside him, pulling him up onto my lap. He’s breathing, thank God, but he doesn’t look well. His eyelids flutter closed as he looks up at me, uncomprehending. _

_ “Is he— what happened?” Combeferre asks from above me. I don’t know. I pick him up, surprised at how light he is, and carry him over to the others. Diana gasps. My heart is racing as I remember his parents, who could be coming to find us at any moment.  _

_ “We need to go. Now.” _

_ When we are back in Paris, he still hasn’t woken up, and he looks even worse. At a few moments, he had sat up and looked at all of us before passing out yet again. I carry him as we approach the house. Cosette’s father had offered us his home whenever we needed it, and certainly we needed it now. _

_ I wait as Combeferre pushes open the door. Cosette is half-asleep on the couch, her diary in her lap, Luna curled up at her feet. She starts when she sees us, and runs over to Enjolras, who still lays unconscious in my arms.  _

_ “What happened?” she cries out, brushing the loose hair away from his face. He still looks awful, and I have to force myself not to cry.  _

_ “I don’t know. One moment he was perfectly alright, the next he collapsed.” _

_ Her father enters the room, looking as worried as I feel. “Is he hurt?” _

_ I walk over to him, Combeferre at my heels. We bring him into the room he’d been staying in, putting him down on the bed. Courfeyrac joins us as well, and Cosette’s father leaves us alone with him, closing the door. _

_ Combeferre gets to work, sitting down beside him and undoing the buttons on his vest. He pulls the hem of his shirt up and turns him onto his side, away from us. I turn away to let Combeferre finish his work. Once he is done, he pulls the blanket over Enjolras, who stirs a bit before going right back out. I feel my worry getting worse.  _

_ “He should rest,” Combeferre says, sounding decided. His worried expression doesn’t make me feel any more confident. “I’m going to put these away somewhere he can’t find them.” He picks up a pile of what looks like bandages, folding them up over his arm. “I don’t want him wearing these until he heals completely.” _

_ Courfeyrac nods and sits on the bed beside him, smoothing out the blanket over him. “You should go,” he says. “Get to bed. I’ll stay awake and watch him for now, we can take turns in the morning.” _

_ “Alright,” I say, heading towards the door. Before I leave, I cast one final glance at Enjolras. He looks almost peaceful. _

_ When I return to the sitting room where everyone was waiting, everyone is completely still and in silence. I look around for a moment, hoping for someone to break the silence. _

_ “How is he?” Feuilly asks at last, his voice tense.  _

_ “Still not awake. Combeferre wanted him to rest, so we left him in the bedroom for the night.” I see the disappointment on their faces. “Courfeyrac said to go to sleep and we’ll see how he is in the morning." _

_ “But what if he doesn’t wake up?” Joly says quickly. I feel the mood drop immediately, the room almost seeming to darken. His outburst made us all more aware of what we were trying to ignore— the possibility that this could have caused real damage. _

_ “Go to bed,” I say finally, my heart heavy. I feel their eyes on me as I walk up to my room, hoping they don’t worry too much.  _

_ As I walk down the hallway, I pass the room where Enjolras is sleeping. I pause. The door is open a crack, and I step back, looking inside and trying not to be too obvious about it.  _

_ He still lays there, no movement at all. Courfeyrac sits beside him, a book in hand. He seems to be trying to distract himself. I tear my gaze away from the room and start towards my bedroom yet again, trying not to think about him too much. _

_ When I have finally gotten to bed, I find that I cannot sleep. The image of him lying there, not moving, falling to the path in front of his parents’ house… it haunts me. Joly’s words ring in my head again.  _ What if he doesn’t wake up?

_ Sighing and turning onto my side, I drift off into a fitful sleep. _

The room I am in is dark. Someone is sleeping on a chair next to me with their head on the bed next to me, and when I look down, I notice that someone took my vest away and hung it over a chair. The wrappings, also gone from my chest, are nowhere to be seen. I shift in the bed, and the person beside me stirs.

“Enjolras? Can you hear me?” It’s Courfeyrac, his voice raspy with sleep. 

“Where am I?”

“You’re home, it’s alright,” he says quietly. “Do you— is there any pain anywhere?”

The moment he says it, I notice a throbbing pain in my sides and chest. I wince. Every time I move, it gets worse.

“What is it?” Courfeyrac says, a note of alarm in his voice. He’s evidently noticed that I’m in pain. “Where does it hurt? Is it your head?”

“No,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “No, it’s okay. Just my chest.” I place a hand on my side, immediately taking it away once again when even just touching it causes more pain. He sits on the bed beside me and helps me sit up, gently putting a hand on my side to check how hurt I am. I recoil at every touch. 

“Do you want me to get Combeferre?” he asks in a low voice. He’s obviously trying to keep me calm. I nod, and he looks at me for a moment, sighs, and leaves to find him. 

The room is dark and cold, and judging from the silence in the house, it is night. Possibly very early morning. I look toward the door. Nothing. Waiting alone affords me no distraction. The only thing that is here to focus on is the pain.

Finally, after a few long minutes of waiting, Courfeyrac returns, followed by Combeferre. He sits down beside me and sighs.

“You say your chest is hurting?” he says quietly. “Let me— is it alright if I just touch to see if I can feel anything?”

I nod. After a moment of hesitation, he gently puts his hand on my side and presses. I wince with pain, pulling away from him.  His expression twists, becoming even more worried. The pain is sharp, like something is broken.

“You can’t wear them for at least a week.”

“But I won’t be able to leave the house!” I protest, sitting bolt upright. “I can’t— you can’t make me—”

“Sit back down,” he says firmly. His voice is sharp. “I can make you, and I will.”

I lay back onto the pillows, crossing my arms over my chest. Even with this light pressure, it hurts. Courfeyrac sits beside me and brushes his hand over my forehead, moving the loose hair away from my face. My face feels hot, and I feel tears burning my eyes. It’s too much. It’s all too much for me to take. I can feel myself start to cry.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Courfeyrac says, wiping the tears from my face. “You’re going to be alright.”

Combeferre walks over to me and puts a hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up,” he says softly. “You really do need to stay in bed for a little while. Maybe in a few days you can walk around the house, but for now you need to rest and let yourself heal. And for at least a full week, you won’t be wearing your bindings. Okay?”

I sigh, but nod, and lean back down onto the pillows. It isn’t right, forcing me to do this, but I know that it’s good for my health. 

“We’ll come back a bit later to check on you, okay? For now you can read or someone can keep you company.”

“If anyone wants to, um… come see me, then you can let them in,” I say, pulling the blanket up higher over my chest. “Tell them that I’m okay.”

Combeferre nods. “I’m sure they all want to talk to you,” he says with a smile. “No, it’s alright, don’t get up. They’ll come to you.”

I sat there staring down at my hands, folded in my lap. Faintly, I hear the door open, and look up, seeing Grantaire standing there in the doorway. He looks as if he hasn’t slept. 

“R?”

He practically runs at me and sits beside me on the bed, clasping both my hands between his and looking at me dead in the eyes. I see tears about to spill over in his eyes, and feel them pricking at my own as well. I can barely believe that the events of the past few days have happened. Grantaire is here, and he’s going to be here.

“I’m so happy you’re alright,” he says quietly. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” I say, shoulders rising. Leaning in close to him, I look him in the eyes, still trying to comfort him.  _ It’s only slightly ironic that it’s me doing the comforting _ , I think, but I don’t have time to think it for very long because in only a moment he pulls me into a kiss and I can’t think of anything at all.

My hands shake as I pull away from him. Grantaire looks at me with so much love in his eyes, and it doesn’t feel  _ right _ at all. 

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. 

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“No, no, I’m fine, I— I don’t know why I feel this badly about it, but…”

“It’s alright.” He gently runs his hands through my hair, letting one hand rest on my cheek gently to wipe away a tear that had escaped me. “You’re safe now, alright?”

I nod, trying not to cry any more. He lets his hands fall from my face down to my shoulders, resting there gently. Everything has seemed so fast these past few days. It’s been completely overwhelming. But sitting here, my mind finally feels… quiet.

“I’m nervous…” I say, holding tensely onto his shirt.

“I am, too,” he says quietly. “But it will be alright. I love you, and we will be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading!
> 
> yes, you heard me right at the beginning notes. this is the last chapter. there will be a little epilogue, that'll come next week for you guys, but that's it. we'll say goodbye for now to apollo... but not to enjoltaire! if you all are still craving long, pining enjoltaire (or ftm enjolras like i am) you will not have to wait for long! i'll leave it at that but next week you won't just get the epilogue, let's say...
> 
> as always, thank you all for reading! comments and kudos are always appreciated.


	25. Epilogue - Two Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this one's so short my dudes!

The whole house is extremely warm. It’s summer, so of course it is, but I observe it nonetheless. I have painful little else to do here while I stand in front of the window, posed up in the position that Grantaire has set me in.

Luna is sleeping on the couch, her kittens curled up beside her. They’ve grown so quickly. My eyes fall on the piles of books, gifts that I have yet to put away from when we first moved in. It feels like so long ago, but it’s only been a week.

I notice an itch on my shoulder. “How much longer?” I ask. He sighs.

“The lighting is good right now,” he says. “It won’t be very much longer, I promise.”

“You’ve been doing this for days,” I say. “When will it be done?”

Grantaire sighs and puts down the paintbrush, standing up from behind the easel. He stares at it for a few moments before dipping it back in the red paint. I recognize the characteristic flourish as his signature, and relax.

“Can I see?” I ask quietly. He nods. I wander over to the easel, leaning my head on his shoulder as I examine it.

Even two years after the barricades—two years since we won our freedom, two years since my first days in the city of Paris, two years since I abandoned my life and never looked back—the memory still rings true. It is even clearer now that I look at this painting.

It’s like I’m there again. I look exactly as I did then, though nothing has really changed. My hair is long, as it hasn’t been in years, but it doesn’t seem out of place. I suddenly think of growing it out again. If it’s this perfect in his art, is this how he saw me then? It seems impossible. 

I inspect every detail. Each brushstroke is meticulously placed—not that I expected less from him, but it impresses me nonetheless. 

“How do you like it?” he asks cautiously.

“I love it,” I say, turning to him. “It truly is perfect.”

“I did have the best muse in the world,” he says with a smile. “So I think I might have had an unfair advantage.”

He looks so perfect, standing there with the sun streaming in through the windows, with paint all over his hands and his clothes. I kiss him, and he kisses me, and for just a minute I forget all of the pain and suffering I have gone through to get here. It’s meaningless to me now. All I can think of is him and me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, man, it's been a good run. i'm gonna be sappy for a good minute here- this started as me reading a oneshot online and wanting to write an expansion of that. it had no plot, no direction, and nothing else, and i'm honestly sorry that there was really never a plot here. but i got better as a writer, and my characters deepened, and i'm really gonna miss writing apollo and michel.
> 
> but don't worry! there's more to come! we're going to have a big long fic that's like thirty whole chapters and i really hope you like it.
> 
> as always, and for the last time in nouvelle vie, comments and kudos are appreciated.
> 
> thanks for reading.


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